Horn of Plenty

Description

Horn of Plenty – Martha Jane Hovater

How does Mac Hollingsworth, a French Horn player in the Navy Band, become involved in a plot to deploy a bioweapon? Where did it come from? What is the intended target? And what can she possibly do to prevent its deployment?

Mac discovers something unusual one day while cleaning her horn and is suddenly “reassigned.” A woman she doesn’t know is killed while driving Mac’s car. Someone keeps trying to kill her. And she finds herself working with people who are not who they seem.

Available at:

Amazon
Smashwords
KOBO
Apple Books
Barnes & Noble

Print:

Amazon

---

EXCERPT:

It wasn’t the proverbial ‘dark and stormy night.’ If it had been, it might have been easier to understand why the car Annie Headley was driving was damaged beyond recognition. Annie did not survive, so any explanation of what happened was lost with her, at least until an investigation was complete.

The common, often well-intended expression “everything happens for a reason” is usually a platitude uttered as a suggestion of some divine or existential purpose. Still, it was often true on a more earthly, human level. That was the case with Annie’s death. Annie died because she was driving Mac Hollingsworth’s car and because at least in the fading light. she bore a slight resemblance to her—someone she didn’t even know.

MacKenzie Hollingsworth was just getting out of the shower when her phone rang. She answered it with her right hand as she continued to towel off her hair with her left. She didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a deep male voice responded. “I’m trying to reach MacKenzie Hollingsworth.”

“Well, you found her. And this is?”

“Maryland State Police, ma’am. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Mac asked as she stopped drying her hair and thoughts of her sister ran through her mind.

“It would probably be better if you came down to the station, ma’am,” the officer responded. “Ask for Captain Vick when you arrive.”

Mac was polite, but firm. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about. Is this about my sister? Did McKenna have an accident?”

Captain Vick hesitated a moment, then said, “It’s about Ann Headley, ma’am.”

“Who’s Ann Headley?” Mac asked as concern gave way to confusion.

“You don’t know an Ann Headley?” Officer Vick asked.

“No, I don’t, so I don’t understand…”

“Ann Headley was killed in an automobile accident last night.”

Mac remained confused. “I’m sorry to hear that, Captain, but I don’t understand why you’re calling me.”

“I’m calling you, ma’am, because the car Ms. Headley was driving was registered in your name.”

Mac sat down on the end of the bed, stunned, but then she began grabbing clothes. “I’m on my way,” she said and hung up. She used her speed dial for her next conversation. When her sister, McKenna, answered, she asked, “Who is Ann Headley, Kenna, and why the hell was she driving my car?”

“How did you…” McKenna began.

“Maryland State Police just called me, Kenna. They said she was killed in an accident last night—in my car.”

“Oh, my God,” McKenna gasped, then took a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, my God,” she said again.

“Kenna?” Mac began.

McKenna choked back her tears. “Annie was a friend of mine, Mac. I…” she hesitated, “I let her borrow your car yesterday. It’s a long story, Mac. I’m sorry. But right now, I’m more sorry about Annie.”

“Okay,” Mac said, aware of McKenna’s shock and grief. “We’ll talk later. Right now, I’m going to the police station.” Mac started to say goodbye, but then added, “You know, Kenna, you should probably come with me. How about I pick you up in a half hour?”

“Yeah, okay,” McKenna managed.

Mac threw on the rest of her clothes and hurried out the door of her apartment. She climbed into her rental car and began the drive to her sister’s home. She was annoyed that McKenna had loaned out her car without her permission. Then again, she had been nice enough to keep it at her home while Mac had been away—but that was all over now, sort of. Recently, after fifteen years of service, she learned she was suddenly no longer Principal French Horn in the United States Navy Concert Band. Well, maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t. It was a strange situation and an even stranger feeling.

Mac pulled into the familiar driveway and saw her sister waiting for her on the front porch. McKenna walked to the car and got in.

“Hi, Mac,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t…” Her voice broke, and tears threatened again.

Mac sighed. “Look, Kenna,” she began, “I’m not happy about the situation, but what’s done is done. Now we’ve got to deal with the fact that your friend is gone.”

McKenna nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just never imagined something like this would happen, but then no one ever does, I guess. That’s why they’re called accidents, right?”

“Sure, Kenna,” Mac replied as she backed out of the driveway, “but I’m still sorry about your friend.”