Download Coyote Dreams (The Walker Papers, Book 3) by C.E. Murphy PDF

By C.E. Murphy

A lot of the town cannot get up. And extra are sound asleep off on a daily basis. rather than strong forces storming Seattle, a extra insidious invasion is going on. such a lot of Joanne Walker's fellow law enforcement officials are down with the blue flu—or fairly the blue sleep. but there is not any actual reason somebody can aspect to—and it retains spreading. It should be magical, Joanne figures. yet what is up with the loopy goals that hit her each time she closes her eyes? Are they being despatched by way of Coyote, her still-missing spirit consultant? The messages simply are not transparent. by some means Joanne has to get up her slumbering buddies whereas retaining these nonetheless conscious, determine her inner-spirit dream lifestyles and, yeah, come to phrases with those different goals she's having approximately her boss….

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Extra resources for Coyote Dreams (The Walker Papers, Book 3)

Example text

Tonight. We’ll do something. ” “See you at eight,” she said in a tone that brooked no compromise, and hung up. The doorbell rang. I turned around and gaped at it. Gary came out of the kitchen, looking as astonished as I did. “I can’t imagine,” I said before he asked, and went back to the door to answer it for the third time that morning. ” Captain Michael Morrison of the Seattle Police Department stood on my doorstep, looking less like a superhero and more like a sunburned, unhappy man than usual.

He squinted down at me, gray eyes curious. Gary Muldoon was the most solid, real-looking person I’d ever met in my life, and at seventy-three he still had the build of the linebacker he’d been in college. But there was a bit of tiredness in the Hemingway wrinkles, and he was moving slower than he had when I met him, thanks to a heart attack a few weeks earlier. A heart attack that was my fault, something I couldn’t forget. Even the memory made a nervous flutter in my stomach. It wasn’t your usual butterflies.

Cause I brought doughnuts. ” I clutched the collar of my robe closed, feeling like a fifties housewife. “Uh. Gary. Uh. Hi. ” God, my prowess with the language was stunning today. A. in English lying somewhere in my apartment. ” He squinted down at me, gray eyes curious. Gary Muldoon was the most solid, real-looking person I’d ever met in my life, and at seventy-three he still had the build of the linebacker he’d been in college. But there was a bit of tiredness in the Hemingway wrinkles, and he was moving slower than he had when I met him, thanks to a heart attack a few weeks earlier.

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