Dance revivalists? Oh, yes. Our Victory Service Club hosts marvelous wartime gatherings for both dancers and promenaders—those in darling vintage clothing who stroll along the sidelines. They are quite different from the lads who engage in actual reenactments. They don’t mind getting their gear dirty. Indeed, the rougher the bunker conditions the better! There has been an astounding growth in interest in World War I and II. People want to recall a time when Britons did something important; it's a sort of collective pride. Of course, the war period is heavily romanticized these days. Everyone focuses on the music which was filled with lyrics of longing. Then there are the televised shows with antique cars and retro dresses which gloss over the horror of war and the lives lost. Still, it keeps our history alive, if somewhat warped.

-- Excerpt from The Tide Turns

A forested glen fell open before them. They stepped down an embankment to walk upon its carpet of golden leaves. Late afternoon sunlight scattered across the dark woods, piercing lower branches with narrow rays of white light to illuminate mossy tree trunks and cast their long shadows upon the soft ground. The secluded woodland was ancient, undisturbed; the musty air laden with primal atmosphere. The songbirds fell silent as if holding their breath in the timeless vignette.

-- Excerpt from The Sheltering Stones

They sat in companionable silence, watching the sky catch fire as the sun fell into the sea. Clouds turned a mewling pink, then a hot scarlet, and finally a glowing orange. The water mirrored the vibrant blaze in breathless closure of the night. Scant starlight pierced the darkness. The seaside seemed so placid, yet it was twisted with trauma.

-- Excerpt from The Tide Turns

​The Inspector turned to study the young constable. They were alone in the building, so he spoke frankly with the novice officer: “Madness dwells within all of us. For everyone there is a moment when fear and false convictions reverberate within the mind, when our skewed self-talk drowns out all sensibility, when the pain of betrayal erodes our morals, when rage mutes all sanity and floods that instant with impulsive lunacy. You must understand this, Paul. Within that reckless moment, every one of us is capable of murder. Don’t think that prior friendship can protect someone from such madness.” Tremaine continued, trying to enlighten the naïve constable based upon his own past experiences, “The killer may well regret an instantaneous act of violence, but he cannot give back what he has taken. He can only hope to hide his insanity from others and from himself. So we must look everywhere and at everyone.”

--​ Excerpt from The Tide Turns

The Knockinton Observatory retained a charming, old-world aura…the original stonework, intricately carved doors, an impressive wooden dome, and ivy that graced the building’s exterior. Newer observatories reflect a sterile, science-based atmosphere embellished with chrome and glass to keep visitors feeling thoroughly entrenched in the modern world. The Knockinton, in contrast, clung tenaciously to its origins, giving students and guests alike a rich sense of historical respect for the development of astronomy over time.

-- Excerpt from The Stars Prevail

For wont to do, Remy began reading the press. It was an older edition with no mention of Maggie’s murder. Instead, the lead article reported on rural crime. Farm equipment was being stolen at unprecedented levels, turning up on Internet auction sites. Farmers were demanding greater police support to fight organized criminals who roamed the land. The next article recounted the theft of books from rural libraries and churches across Italy. Remy groaned. She was familiar with the theft and sale of cultural legacies given her past museum work. Tombs were still looted by poachers, ruins were broken for architectural pieces, and holy sites were demolished by invading armies. In this case, a library director had been caught stealing handwritten, centuries-old manuscripts. Those caught within the smuggling chain were facing trial, but Interpol was still working with police to find a collector dubbed The Astronomer. The name grabbed Remy’s interest. The black-market buyer was suspected of collecting tomes written by the founders of astronomy. Such books would cost a king’s ransom, Remy mused, knowing she would research this mysterious collector when she got back home.

-- Excerpt from The Stars Prevail