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Let Freedom Ring

The Wild Rose Press

Heat Rating: No Rating
Word Count: 89,385
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When Avery Archer, an eleven-year-old boy, telephones Ken Driscoll, a young accountant, and pleads for help in escaping from his kidnappers, Ken thinks the boy is playing a sick prank. But after several daily calls, Ken truly believes the boy is in danger. When Ken contacts the local police for assistance, he learns Avery was abducted sixty-seven years ago and eaten by alligators in a nearby lake.

Were they just prank telephone calls in the middle of the night, or was it a desperate cry for help?

The calls eventually force Ken to examine what is important in his life. His job? His relationship with his fiancée? Or the life of the boy at the end of the telephone line?

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So Avery was killed. Shot in the head and fell into the lake. And he was held captive in a farmhouse on Lake Ripple off Sunnyland Highway in Nawinah. What did that mean? What did it mean that I was receiving phone calls from a kid who was killed sixty-seven years ago? The fact that he was held captive so close to where I live gave me a very uncanny feeling. I also live on Lake Ripple off Sunnyland Highway in Nawinah. The farmhouse had been located on my lake somewhere! This was all undeveloped land back in 1931 except for the Kouprianov house across the lake.

I could not come to grips with my situation. I am a realist. I don’t believe in fantasies, reincarnation, or even fortune telling, none of that mystic or voodoo stuff. Therefore, it was very difficult for me to comprehend what was going on. In order for me to believe, I would have to throw out all my preconceived ideas about life and death. I always thought that a person is born; he lives; he dies. Once his body is buried in the ground, or he is cremated and scattered where his relatives decide to dispose of him, then that is the end of him. Kaput. Nil. Zilch. That is my dilemma. I would have to throw these beliefs aside to make room for an altogether different mindset, one that placed Avery Archer and me somewhere near the same physical location but separated from each other by sixty-seven years, yet being able to communicate with one another. Not only were we separated by time, but also Avery was dead and I was alive. How is that for a mind-boggling exercise? Would anyone blame me for being doubtful? I was simply not quite ready to give up my reality. I had to learn more.

I continued looking at the microfilm to find if any new information was in the Monday, July 6, 1931, newspaper.

Police Spend Day Searching Splash Lake

Police and deputies spent yesterday searching Splash Lake for the body of Avery Archer assumed to have been shot in the head and fallen into the lake on the night of July 4. Police also combed the brush and dense growth along the edge of the lake, but no body was found. The search would continue until darkness, and, if unsuccessful, will begin again today.

Sources have informed us that Samuel Archer is recovering from a gunshot wound to his arm. He has refused to talk to reporters.

He and his wife must have been going through hell. And to have it all end like that.