The Wharf

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Carol Ericson. The Wharf

“You are not going to traipse down to the wharf alone at eleven o’clock at night.”

The Wharf. Carol Ericson

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A little thrill raced down Kacie’s back. She couldn’t help it. “He’ll never talk if he sees you there.

“Who said he’s going to see me?”

.....

Holding the object with the paper, she turned it toward him. A rag doll with blond braids smiled at him with her stitched-on mouth.

His pulse slowed down. “A doll? Are you a collector?”

.....