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The Man in the Mirror

by Shannon R. Richard

308 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-2606; ISBN 1-4120-2027-1; US$22.50, C$25.00, EUR18.50, £13.00

Unsettling and eerie events cause Sara to uncover the mystery surrounding a fifty-year-old case of murdered children.

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about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book After moving into a new apartment with her mother, Erin fears entering her bedroom and spends her nights on the living room sofa, while her mother is away on a business trip, Erin's Aunt Sara comes to stay with her and finds herself trapped in the middle of the horror that has been haunting her niece. in her effort to protect her niece, Sara starts to questions neighbours and search into past history of the building. She finds the answers that authorities have searched for for many years.

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About the Author Shannon R. Richard was born and raised in a small town, in the upper peninsula of Michigan. She is inspired to write by the love of her husband and her family. Though this is her first attempt at a novel, she is hoping that more will follow and fill the pages of her life with many memories.

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Excerpt

Sara was enjoying her time alone down in the laundry room, as much as she could enjoy anything at this point. She sat up on the folding table and listened to the soft rumble of the machine, it was kind of hypnotic and soothing. She curled her legs up on the table and lay down on it with her hands under head as a make shift pillow. Her eyes were just beginning to close when her time alone came to an end.

"This isn't an appropriate place for a nap dear." Mrs. Deverough entered the room carrying her own basket of laundry.

Sara quickly sat up, "Oh I wasn't napping, just resting my eyes for a minute."

The old woman began to fill a machine, "Don't let me interrupt you, I just came down to do a little wash," she glanced over at Sara, "you alright dear, you don't look so good."

Mrs. Deverough was an extremely kind woman and Sara liked her very much, but now she really wasn't in any mood for conversation. "I'm fine," she said, "I guess I'm just a little tired."

"Is he getting to you dear?" The woman asked as she turned back to her laundry.

Sara jumped off of the table, "What?"

"Is it getting to you?"

Sara stood directly behind the woman, "You said he, you asked if he was getting to me!"

Mrs. Deverough continued with her work as though she hadn't even heard Sara, "The work never stops you know, the shopping, the laundry, the constant cleaning...It can be tough on someone who isn't quite used to doing it all of the time."

Sara went to the woman's side, "Who is he?" She was eager to hear what the woman had to say.

Mrs. Deverough turned to Sara and sternly stared into her eyes, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about dear."

The look was somewhat horrifying; it frightened Sara, but not enough for her to drop it, not this time. "Yes you do!" she insisted, "You asked if he was getting to me! I need to know who you were talking about!"

Mrs. Deverough went about her laundry yet again, "Could you hand me that soap there dear?"

"NO!" Sara shouted at the woman, "You need to answer my question, you can't just stand there and pretend that I don't exist!"

The woman reached around Sara for her bottle of laundry soap, "I don't see why not," she said, "so many pretend that I don't exist."

Sara seized the old woman's arm in desperation, "Please," she begged, "you have to tell me who you were talking about."

Mrs. Deverough pulled her arm away. She calmly shut the lid to her machine and set her bottle of laundry soap in the empty basket at her feet. "Look Sara Hutchens," the horrifying look returned to the woman's eyes, "I don't have to tell you anything." She picked up her basket and walked towards the door then turned to Sara, "You know everything that you need to know right now." she spoke harshly, "I do remember once that I told you I was right below you in 217 if you needed anything!"

Sara was left alone, in the laundry room. Only now she didn't want to be alone, she wanted Mrs. Deverough to come back and explain. She wanted to finish the conversation with her. Still she had been very frightened by the look in the old woman's eyes and that kept her from following her. She propped herself back up on the table and waited for her machine to be done.

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Catalogue Information

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