A masterful novel set in 1920s Louisiana, The Missing is the story of Sam Simoneaux, a floorwalker at a New Orleans department store. When a little girl is kidnapped on Sam’s watch he is haunted by guilt, grief, and ghosts from his own troubled past. Determined to find her, Sam sets out on a journey through a world of music and violence, where riverboats teem with drinking and dancing, and where dark swamplands conceal those who choose to live by their own laws. With the fate of the stolen child looming, The Missing vividly depicts an America lurching away from war, where civilization is only beginning to penetrate the hinterlands, and a man must choose between compassion and vengeance.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: The Missing|
|Release Date: 03-03-2009|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||The Missing|
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Sam Simoneaux leaned against the ship’s rail, holding on in the snarling wind as his lieutenant struggled toward him
through the spray, grabbing latches, guy wires, valve handles. “Pretty bad belowdecks,” the lieutenant cried out against the
“That’s a fact. Stinks too bad to eat.”
“I noticed you have a bit of an accent. Where are you from?”
Sam felt sorry for him. The lieutenant was trying to be popular with his men, but none of them could imagine such a white- blond beanpole from a farm in Indiana leading anyone into battle. “I don’t think I have an accent. But you do.”
The lieutenant gave him a startled look. “Me?”
“Yeah. Where I was raised in south Louisiana, nobody talks like you.”
The lieutenant smiled. “Everybody’s got an accent, then.”
Sam looked at the spray running over the man’s pale freckles, thinking that in a heavy frost he’d be nearly invisible. “You come up on a farm?”
“Yeah, sure. My family moved down from Canada about twenty years ago.”
“I was raised on a farm but figured I could do better,” Sam yelled. “The lady down the road from us had a piano and she taught it to me. Moved to New Orleans when I was sixteen to be close to the music.”
The lieutenant bent into the next blast of wind. “I’m with you there. I can’t throw bales far enough to farm.”
“How many days till we get to France?”
“The colonel says three more, the captain, two, the pilot, four.