Daddy's Little Girls

DADDY’S LITTLE GIRLS A THOMAS SHEPHERD MYSTERY DAN PADAVONA CONTENTS Get a FREE Book! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Get a FREE Book! Support Your Favorite Authors Acknowledgments About the Author GET A FREE BOOK! I’m a pretty nice guy once you look past the grisly images in my head. Most of all, I love connecting with awesome readers like you. Join my VIP Reader Group and get a FREE serial killer thriller for your Kindle. Get My Free Book www.danpadavona.com/thriller-readers-vip-group/ 1 Clouds shrouded the October moon as the van jounced up a rutted road. The driver leaned over the steering wheel and peered into the night. Where was the turnoff? It had to be close. The GPS told him Wolf Lake was somewhere to his left, though he couldn’t see the water in the moonless night. Carried by a howling wind, dead leaves blew across the windshield. Here and there, he found a porch light shining. Most of the houses stood in darkness. The dashboard clock read midnight. It was time. An open lot lay between two lake cottages. He stopped the van and shut off the motor, reveling in a silence that made his ears ring. The engine cooled. Tick, tick, tick. A wall divided the front and rear of the van; no sound came from the back. Good. The potholes hadn’t jostled her out of sleep. The wind continued to beat against the vehicle. Chimes hanging from a nearby porch rang like a bell tolling for the dead. From beneath the seat, he removed the picture frame without looking at the photo behind the glass. Doing so brought too much pain. He needed to sever ties. After he slipped the frame inside his jacket, he stepped into the chilly night. His sneakers crunched on the gravel shoulder. A click of the key fob locked the van doors. He studied the houses and ensured no one spied on him. Though the lake remained invisible from the road, he heard the breakers and tasted the humidity. Wolf Lake was the cleanest, most pristine body of water in New York State, perfect for his purposes. He clicked the flashlight and swept the beam across the yard. This carried risk, but it was too dark to find what he sought. The light landed on a wooden structure off the shore. This was it. Behind a cottage to his left, a dock led into the water. Someone had dragged a kayak ashore, and he grabbed it by the handle and pulled it to the shoreline. Water sloshed against the rocks. The lake appeared black and angry, driven by the gale. He located the oars on the lawn. Again the man glanced behind and searched for witnesses to his private funeral. The tide battled the kayak until he was several yards off the shore. Then the lake seemed to drag him away from civilization. For a moment, a sense of helplessness overcame his mind. What if the current was too strong for him to return to shore? The man didn’t care if he lived or died, but he had a daughter to think about. Who would watch over her if something terrible happened to him? Even now she slept, probably dreaming of princesses and castles in the sky. His throat constricted when he pictured the girl curled inside her sleeping bag. So innocent, so vulnerable. He determined to return to her, no matter how hard the lake fought his efforts. Ten minutes passed before he reached the center of the lake. His arms felt like rubber bands from the exertion. A tear crept down his cheek, and a heaviness weighed on his heart. From here, he looked back at the sleeping houses. Were those families as perfect as his? People took life and happiness for granted. It could all be wrenched away in the blink of an eye. This he knew. He couldn’t bring himself to get the picture frame out of his jacket. The cold finality made him question the decision. If he said farewell, it was forever. This was the only memory from his previous life, the one he’d abandoned after the pain grew too much to bear. He had to say goodbye. There was no other choice. Thinking of his sleeping daughter forced his hand and lent him the courage to do what must be done. He removed the frame and kissed the glass, warm from his body heat. It was impossible to see their faces in the dark. That was for the best. They were dead to him now. The frame hit the water and floated on the waves. He worried it wouldn’t sink before a breaker engulfed the picture and dragged it down. “No!” He reached for the photograph, but it was beyond his reach. Gone forever. The man leaned his head back and howled. Tears blurred the black sky. Were it not for the loving daughter awaiting him in the van, he would have jumped in and followed the picture frame to the bottom of the lake. He had to regain control; he wouldn’t let his girl see him like this. “I have a new family now,” he said, firming his chin. He swiped the tears off his cheeks. A wave had soaked his shirt. With renewed determination, he turned the boat around and struggled back to shore. Nature couldn’t stand in his way. When the nose of the kayak