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Harlan McFadden, a daughter's murder, a father's revenge
                   

     What excuse would she beat him over the head with this time? Harlan never knew, hell, nobody ever knew which ex-wife was likely to show up on any given day. Would it be the Pearl he’d married—the one liable to plant a kiss on his cheek—or the Pearl who might try to gouge his eyes out with table spoons?

     In case the “ill-tempered” ex showed up with a soup spoon in each hand, he’d brought along Judge Haney’s court order—prepared to argue yet again, that he had been granted weekly visits and once a month week-ends with his daughter. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that—there was something about the decree that made her swear like a sailor.

     The “sweet ex” planted a kiss on his cheek as Pearl Grace held a tote-bag in one hand and Sue Ellen’s tiny hand in the other.

     “Monday morning,” Pearl said, warning her ex-husband.

     His only child and only reason for living ran to him and throwing her arms around his neck shouted, “Daddy. Daddy.”

     Walking away, Sue Ellen’s hand secure in his, he dared not look back. It’d been far too easy.

     “Sugar Button?” he asked her. How she glowed when her daddy called her Sugar Button—it made her feel so very special. But he didn’t want to confuse her even more than the last few months already had by asking her if she knew why her mother had relented so easily, so he let go of the wondering.

     “That mean man brought Mama her medicine today, and told me go outside and play. And they went into Mama’s bedroom,” volunteered Sue Ellen.

     Pearl had lied . . . telling the man wearing the long black robe she was finally rid of the “monkey” on her back. And what was with that damn fool Judge Haney saying he didn’t have a clue she’d ever had a drug problem?

     Was she at it again—shooting Oxycontin, sucking on finger size “reefers,” chugging Jack Daniels as if she owned the whole damn distillery? Harlan wondered.

     Uncle CL waited at the end of the dirt driveway in his worn-out Ford pickup. Today, he and his nephew were making that long planned trip up to Grand Falls with a seven year old guest sitting between them. He could hardly wait for Sue Ellen to give him his “Uncle CL” hug.

     Little did he know—or could anyone for that matter—that singular hug would be the last she ever gave anyone.




 Title:  Harlan McFadden, a daughters' murder, a father's revenge

ISBN:  978-0-615-68920-3
Author:  Dwight V. Murray
Publisher:  Wild Pony Publishing
softcover/324 pages/approx.size 6" x 9"/trade



About the Author:  Dwight V. Murray

Born, raised, and educated in North Carolina, the author of this work from an early age began a lifelong love affair with America.
Dwight V. Murray, aka d. v. murray, is a ‘people watcher.’  He sees stories within them.

Business obligations have taken him to the far reaches of this great and wonderful country.  He has seen many acts of patriotism,
generosity, love of ‘fellow’ man. He has seen the immense pride Americans once had in their homeland.  But now sees only
the life sucking malaise of complacency and the forest of hands reaching toward Washington for yet more governmental ‘entitlements.’

He wonders where his beloved America went.  And how did it happen?  Was it drugs?  A ‘come one-come all’ immigration policy?
The undeniable lean toward Socialism?  Unqualified moneyworshipping, ass-kissing politicians?  Or perhaps all of the above?

That ‘complacency’ he has watched grow like a cancer in America, is the sole premise of this work.

In the following story, he has found a hero—an ‘every-man’ kind of hero.

Harlan McFadden has given his all to America, even his beautiful daughter, Sue Ellen.  Drugs, arrogant illegal aliens, the
rush toward socialism, and the greed of politicians, have taken everything from him except his love of America.  He longs for
America to be as it once was.  And he wants his daughter back.

The author sees this man in many men.  There is hope America.  There is hope.

Such a story is Harlan McFadden.
Copyright Year:  2013