Title: THE MOTH CAME BACK
Author: Tara Ratzlaff
Imprint: Camel Press
BISAC #1 Code: FIC022040
BISAC #2 Code: FIC 022100
BISAC #3 Code: FIC 022070
Pages: 228
Size: 5.5 by 8.5
Illustrations? No
Format: Trade paperback
ISBN-13: 9781684920969
Ebook: 9781684920952
Price: $16.95, Ebook: $5.99
Publication Date: 7.14.2023

A native grass and wildflower seed farmer is thrust into solving a mystery when a body is found in one of her fields and the primary suspect is her best friend.

Book Excerpt:  Three miles later I turned off the highway onto the road leading to our seed cleaning plant and break room building behind which were our fields of big bluestem, auburn in color now as it was almost ready for harvest and purple prairie clover which had lost most of its purple bloom. Once I got past the seed cleaning plant I was met by the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. I pulled up behind the sheriff’s vehicle, put the pickup in park and jumped out, looking for Sheriff Poole. This was difficult as Sheriff Poole was a short man, and big bluestem could grow up to eight feet tall. I noticed an area of the field that looked like it was moving and with no wind today I was pretty confident that was where everyone was. I started in to the field, trying to knock down as little as possible. As I got closer I could hear voices. I finally located Gary, the head of our roguing crew, the sheriff, our other two roguers, and a couple of EMT’s standing around a form on the ground. My brother, Kirk, was another roguer and should have been there also. For a second my heart stopped as I thought he might be the body, but I realized Gary would have told me if that were the case.  Sheriff Poole turned around, “Hi Carmen, any idea who this is?”  As I stepped next to the body, I looked down. I had seen plenty of dead animals over the years, but the only dead humans I had been exposed to had been prepared with carefulness and respect by morticians. This body did not look as lovingly prepared. His knees were scrunched up to his chest with a look of panic on his face. He did look vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place why and I wasn’t going to look any closer. I hesitated and finally said, “I don’t think so. Do you know what happened to him? I suppose you’ll have to wait for an autopsy.”  “No, I don’t think I will,” Sheriff Poole responded.I looked again, this time noticing the brown stain on the ground next to his arm and the bloody hole in his chest on the side that closest to the dirt.  “He was shot?” I asked dumbfounded, the granola bar crumbs starting to stir in my gut, and feeling very thankful I hadn’t eaten any more than that.