Disappearing Nine Patch (A Harriet Truman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 9) Read Online Free PDF Page A

not surprising.”
    “Molly has told me a lot about missing and exploited children,” DeAnn said. “And all kidding aside, I was shocked the first time she told me there are something like three hundred thousand young girls working in the sex trade each year.”
    Carla tapped on the front of her phone, opening the calculator function.
    “Wow, if they were evenly spread over all fifty states that would be six thousand per state.”
    Mavis carried her pieces of fabric to the big table and laid them carefully across one end.
    “Now that we’ve established it’s a worthy cause, shall we begin working?”
    Robin pulled out her legal pad.
    “I think this might work better if we divide up into two teams, one for each quilt.”
    Harriet picked her bag up from the floor beside her chair.
    “I’ll vote for that. I think that will help prevent us from mixing up the fabrics when we get to the sewing stage.”
    “I like the idea, too.” Lauren agreed. “The lavenders are pretty similar, and so are the dark greens. I know one set is Civil War reproduction fabric and the other is contemporary floral, but their colors are close.”
    Robin wrote Team One and Team Two across the top of her paper.
    “Does anyone care which team they’re on?”
    No one did, so she began writing names under the headings.
    “Okay. How about Harriet, Lauren, Carla and Mavis on team one, and Beth, DeAnn, Connie and me on team two?”
    “Sounds good to me,” Harriet said.
    The rest nodded agreement.
    “Let’s finish all the cutting today,” Mavis said. “I brought gallon zip bags to put the strip sets into. That way, everyone can take a few bags home to start work on.”
    Aunt Beth held up a handful of three-by-five index cards.
    “I marked these cards with a quarter-inch line. Each person should take one home and line the edge of the card up with the quarter-inch seam guide on your sewing machine. Lower your presser foot, and then the needle, and if the needle doesn’t go through the line on the card, adjust your needle position until it does. This should insure that all our seams are the same.”
    Connie took her card and smiled at Beth.
    “Thank you so much for doing this.”
    DeAnn picked up the pile of strips she’d cut and carried them to Connie, where they would be matched up with the other colors. She stopped and pressed her lips together before speaking.
    “I apologize in advance for my sister. Beth and Connie and Mavis probably already know, but for any of you who don’t, she’s obsessed with figuring out something that happened to her and a friend when they were little.
    “The friend disappeared when the two of them were playing and was never found. Lauren, she’s likely to ask you for help with computer searches, Beth, Connie, and Mavis, she’ll probably grill you guys about what was going on in Foggy Point all those years ago. Carla, I can only imagine what she might ask you, but believe me, she will ask.”
    “Don’t worry, honey,” Mavis told her. “We all understand about family.”
    “Anyone here hungry?” Jorge Perez, owner and head chef of Tico’s Tacos, stood in the hall outside the classroom with two large insulated carry bags. “Señora Beth told me you were working so hard you wouldn’t have time to take a lunch break. I decided to bring the food to you.”
    “Bless you,” Connie said.
    Lauren got up and went to the door.
    “What do you have for us?”
    She took one of the bags and carried it to the table. Jorge followed, set his bag beside hers, and they began taking foil-wrapped paper plates from the warm interiors.
    “Just for variety, I made you chimichangas served on a bed of lettuce with a side of Mexican rice. The sauce is a mild red sauce, except for Señora Connie, who can take the heat.” He said this last with a wicked smile. Connie had lived most of her life in Washington, but she’d been born in Cuernavaca, Mexico.
    “I have a boneless, skinless chicken breast on a bed of vegetables