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The Calling (Part 1)
The Calling (Part 1)
The Calling (Part 1)
Ebook23 pages17 minutes

The Calling (Part 1)

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Local reporter and bonafide burnout Caroline Hedstrom may not have what it takes to become a hard-hitting journalist, but she’s seen enough to know a thing or two about how the world works. For her, life is pretty easy: Write a story, take a paycheck, and go home to the bottle and the barn out back. But when a wave of grisly violence rattles her North Dakota home, Caroline is at a loss for words. As she digs deeper into the story, Caroline discovers just how hot a good search can be, and how dangerous her pride really is. Will the thrill of desire be enough to tether Caroline to the real world, or will her thirst for truth push her over the edge?
Reporter Caroline Hedstrom gets in over her head when a blood-chilling murder happens in her quiet hometown. When law enforcement and local crooks go silent about the death, Caroline begins to suspect that the case is a lot bigger than it looks. The investigation takes a turn when a mysterious federal agent puts herself in Caroline’s path.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 13, 2020
ISBN9781094407173
The Calling (Part 1)
Author

Holly Glass

Holly Glass uses romance to explore the complexities of gender identity, the joys of sexual fluidity, and the possibility of personal liberation in a highly gendered world. Her goal is to cultivate intimacy and health by telling stories that are authentic to life and love outside of the hetero-norm.

Read more from Holly Glass

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    The Calling (Part 1) - Holly Glass

    The Calling

    I didn’t mean to see the body.

    It’s a thought I can’t bring myself to say aloud, and even if I could, no one would buy it. I watch two men in uniforms wheeling a gurney carrying a shiny black bag, and I know I can’t forget what’s inside. I lean against the furrowed bark of an aspen and wipe a slick of vomit from the corner of my mouth.

    Even from this distance, I see the Sheriff’s face — a pronounced scowl, the visual equivalent of a dog’s fierce bark or an open-handed slap. I know what that glower is saying to me: This is what you get.

    For once, I agree with him. This is one story I should have left well enough alone, and now, I’ll pay for my journalistic integrity with nightmares and nausea.

    Involuntarily, I think about the dead girl. I was once that young; although these days, youth is more spectre than memory. But I know my youth happened, even if I don’t feel it to be true. I once sat at my mother’s feet as she wove my hair into braids. I once leaned against a wall of lockers, the cold metal painted school-spirit red. My hair was once a brighter shade before it began to dull like fading wallpaper. That was what I thought of when I saw the victim’s hair hanging in chunks on the cabin wall.

    Death has a funny way

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