Czytaj książkę: «Sudden Second Chance»
A man with too many secrets. A woman with everything to lose.
As if the Timberline Trio cold case isn’t nightmarish enough for FBI agent Duke Harper, he runs into the TV reporter who loved and betrayed him—beautiful Beth St. Regis. Duke quickly concludes she’s not after a sensational story. She’s there to solve the haunting mystery of who she really is. But all her questions unleash a killer, and Duke steps up to protect her when she becomes a target. Despite their bitter past, Duke finds he’s still attracted to Beth, and maybe they deserve a second chance. First, though, he has to keep Beth alive—and from discovering the shocking truth about her past...
Her frame trembled beneath his hands. “It was... terrifying... I’m going to hear that sound in my nightmares.”
“What’s it gonna take for you, Beth?”
“To leave Timberline? The truth. I’m going to leave Timberline when I discover the truth about my identity. Otherwise, what do I have?”
“You have me.” He sealed his lips over hers and drew her close.
She melted against him for a moment, her mouth pliant against his. But then she broke away and stepped back.
“I just don’t think you understand what this means to me, Duke. It’s a lifetime of questions and doubts coming to a head right here. All my questions have led me here.”
“You don’t know, Beth. It’s based on feelings and suppositions and red doors and frogs.”
“And that’s a start.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to take that all away from her—the hope—but he’d snatch it all away in a heartbeat to keep her safe.
Sudden Second Chance
Carol Ericson
CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”
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Cast of Characters
Beth St. Regis—The host of the Cold Case Chronicles TV show. She uses the show as a cover to find out if she’s one of the missing children of the Timberline Trio, but she runs into a former adversary...and lover, who will either stand in her way or make her forget all about why she’s in Timberline.
Duke Harper—This FBI agent is sent to investigate the Timberline Trio cold case, but the dead-end assignment turns into a battle of wits and wills when he meets up with the TV reporter who used him for a story but has been on his mind and in his heart ever since.
Heather Brice—Beth believes she might be this kidnapped child and will stop at nothing to prove it.
Bill Raney—His realty business is suffering due to his chronic drinking and poor business practices, and he’s willing to do just about anything to get back on top.
Rebecca Geist—A local Realtor who knows more of Timberline’s secrets than she realizes, which puts a target on her back.
Jordan Young—This Timberline mover and shaker is anxious to put the town’s dark history in the past, but are his motives civic or personal?
Gary Binder—A recovering drug addict and ex-con, he’s either trying to get his life back on track or he’s up to his old tricks.
Scarlett Easton—A local artist and native Quileute, she offers to help Beth get in touch with her past, but she pays a price for her generosity.
Serena Hopewell—A bartender at a local restaurant, she owns a prime piece of property in Timberline. Is she a savvy investor or a savvy blackmailer?
Sheriff Musgrove—The new sheriff in town may be a little too cozy with those who would circumvent the law in order to hide the truth.
For Chuck,
one of the most avid readers I know.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Cast of Characters
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
Chapter One
Beth’s heart skipped a beat as she ducked onto the path that led through a canopy of trees. The smell of damp earth and moldering mulch invaded her nostrils. She took a deep breath. The odor evoked the cycle of life—birth, death and rebirth. She’d smelled worse.
She gasped as a lacy, green leaf brushed her face. Then she knocked it away. If she freaked out and had a panic attack every time she delved into the forest, she’d have a hard time doing this story—and getting to the truth of her birth.
Straightening her shoulders, she tugged on her down vest and blew out a breath. She stepped over a fallen log, snapping a twig in two beneath her boot. The mist rising from the forest floor caressed her cheek and she raised her face to the moisture swirling around her.
The scent of pine cleared her sinuses and she dragged in a lungful of the fresh air. She’d definitely classify herself as a city girl, but this rustic, outdoor environment seemed to energize her.
Either that or the adrenaline was pumping so hard and fast through her veins, a massive anxiety attack waited right around the corner.
She continued on the path through the dense foliage, feeling stronger and stronger with each step. She could do this. The reward of possibly finding her true identity motivated her, blocking out the anxiety that the forest usually stirred up inside her.
She’d convinced Scott, the producer of Cold Case Chronicles, that she needed to come out ahead of her crew to do some initial interviews and footwork. She had her own video camera and could give Joel, her cameraman, a head start. Stoked by the show’s ratings from the previous season, Scott had been ready to grant her anything. Of course, she had a lot of work to do on her own before she got her guys up here. She’d have to stall Scott.
The trees rustled around her and she paused, tilting her head to one side. Maybe she should’ve researched the presence of wild animals out here. Did bears roam the Pacific Northwest? Wolves? She was pretty sure there were no tigers stalking through the forests of Washington. Were there?
As she took another step, leaves crackled behind her, too close for comfort, and she froze again. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and quivered, all her old fears flooding her senses.
She craned her head over her shoulder and released a gusty breath of air. A man walking a bicycle stuttered to a stop, his eyes widening in his gaunt face.
“Ma’am?”
The relief she’d felt a moment ago that it hadn’t been a tiger on her trail evaporated as she took in the man’s appearance. He had the hard look of a man who’d been in the joint. She recognized it from previous stories she’d done on her TV show, Cold Case Chronicles.
“Oh, hello. My husband and I were just taking a walk. He went ahead.”
He nodded once, a jerky, disjointed movement. “Come out to look at the kidnapping site, did ya?”
Heat washed into Beth’s cheeks. She wanted to make it clear to this man that she wasn’t just some morbid looky-loo, but what did it really matter?
“We were in the area anyway, and it’s so pretty out here.” She waved a hand toward the path she’d been following. “Is it much farther?”
“Not much.” He pushed his bike forward, wheeling around the same fallen log she’d stepped over earlier. “They were lookin’ at me for a bit.”
“Excuse me?” Beth tucked her hands into the pockets of her vest, her right hand tracing the outline of her pepper spray.
“For the kidnappings.” He hunched his scrawny shoulders. “Like I’d snatch a couple of kids.”
“Th...that must’ve been scary.” She slipped her index finger onto the spray button in her pocket. “How’d the police get that idea?”
“Because—” he looked to his left and right “—because I’d been in a little trouble before.”
Taking one step back, Beth coiled her muscles. She could take him—maybe—especially if she nailed him with the pepper spray first.
“And because I was there the first time.”
“What?” She snapped her jaw closed to keep it from hanging open. Did he mean he’d been in Timberline at the time the Timberline Trio was kidnapped? He definitely looked old enough.
“You know.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “The first time when them three kids were snatched twenty years ago.”
Twenty-five years ago, she corrected him in her head.
“You were living here during that time?”
“I wasn’t the only one. Lots of people still around from that time.” His tone got defensive. “It’s just ’cause I had that other trouble. That’s why they looked at me—and because of the dead dog, only he wasn’t dead.”
A chill snaked up Beth’s spine. She definitely wanted to talk to this man later if he was telling the truth, but not now and not here in the middle of a dense forest with only the tigers to hear her screams.
“Well, I’d better catch up to my husband. A...are you going to the site, too?”
“No, ma’am. I’m just taking the shortcut to my house.” He raised one hand.
Then he turned his bike to the right and her shoulders dropped as she released the trigger on her pepper spray.
“Ma’am?”
She stopped, and without turning around, she said, “Yes?”
“Be careful out there. The Quileute swear this forest is haunted.”
“I will and I’m...we’re not afraid of ghosts—my husband and I.”
He emitted a noise, which sounded a lot like a snort, and then he wheeled his bike down another path, leaving the echo of crackling leaves.
Beth brushed her hair from her face and strode forward. He wouldn’t be hard to locate later—an ex-con on a bicycle who’d been questioned about the kidnappings. Maybe he’d have some insight into the Timberline Trio.
She tromped farther into the woods but never lost sight of the trail as it had been well used recently. What was wrong with people who wanted to see where three kids and a woman had been held against their will?
If she didn’t have a damned good excuse for being out here, she’d be exploring the town or sitting in front of the fireplace at her hotel enjoying a caramel latte with extra foam, reading—okay, she’d probably be reading a murder mystery or a true-crime book about a serial killer. The Pacific Northwest seemed to have those in spades.
A piece of soggy, yellow tape stirring in the breeze indicated that she’d reached the spot. Law enforcement had drilled orange caution cones into the ground around the mine opening and had boarded over the top. Nobody would be able to use this abandoned mine for any kind of nefarious purpose again.
She nudged one of the cones with the toe of her boot—it didn’t budge. Wedging her hands on her hips, she surveyed the area. No recognition pinged in her chest. Her breathing remained calm, too, so nothing here was sending her into overdrive.
Not that she’d really expected it. Wyatt Carson had chosen this place to stash his victims because he’d discovered it or had searched for someplace to hide the children, not because he’d known it from twenty-five years before when he was just a child himself, when his own brother Stevie Carson had been snatched.
But one kidnap story might lead to another. Maybe the Timberline Trio had been held here before...before what? If she really were one of the Timberline Trio, those children obviously weren’t dead. So, why had they been kidnapped? Why had she been kidnapped?
There was something about this place—Timberline—that struck a chord within her. As soon as she’d seen that stuffed frog in the window of the tourist shop during a TV news story about the Wyatt Carson kidnappings, she’d known she had to come here. She could be Heather Brice, and she had to find out.
Crouching down, she scooted closer to the entrance of the mine. When Carson had found it, the mine had a cover that he’d then blocked with a boulder. All that had been removed and cleared out.
She flattened herself onto her belly and army-crawled between the cones. Someone had already pried back and snapped off a piece of wood covering the entrance.
With her arms at her sides, she placed her forehead against one slat of wood and peered into the darkness below. She’d like to get down there just to have a look around. Maybe the local sheriff’s department would allow it if she promised to get their mugs on TV.
A swishing noise coming up behind her had her digging the toes of her boots into the mushy earth. She’d just put herself into an extremely vulnerable position—an idiotic thing to do with that ex-con roaming the woods. A branch snapped. She slipped her hand inside her pocket and gripped the pepper spray, her finger in position.
A man’s voice yelled out. “Hey!”
Then a strong vise clamped around her ankle. This was it. In one fluid motion, she dragged the pepper spray from her pocket, rolled to her back, aimed and fired.
The man released her ankle immediately and staggered back, one arm flung over his face.
Beth jumped to her feet, holding the spray in front of her with a shaky hand, ready to shoot again.
Her attacker cursed and spit.
Beth’s eyebrows shot up. The ex-con had gotten bigger...and meaner.
Then he lowered his hands from his face and glared at her through dark eyes streaming with tears. Those eyes widened and he cursed again.
He cleared his throat and coughed. “Beth St. Regis. I should’ve known it was you.”
Beth dropped her pepper spray and clasped her hand over her heart. She’d rather be facing a tiger right now than Duke Harper—the man she’d loved and betrayed.
Chapter Two
Duke’s eyes stung and his nose burned, lighting his lungs on fire with every breath he took. Even through his tears, he couldn’t mistake the woman standing in front of him, her shoulder-length, strawberry blond hair disheveled and her camera-ready features distorted by surprise and...fear.
She should be afraid—very afraid after the way she’d used him.
He kicked at the pepper spray nestled in the green carpet between them. “Is that the stuff I gave you?”
“I...I think so.”
“Then I’ll count myself lucky because that’s expired. You should’ve replaced it last year, but if you had, I wouldn’t be standing upright forming words.” He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt to his face and wiped his tears and his nose.
Miss Perfect would hate that he’d just used his shirt as a handkerchief—and that was fine with him. He peered at her through blurry eyes and she still looked perfect—damn it.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I thought you were an ex-con attacking me.”
She must be referring to Gary Binder, unless there were other ex-cons in Timberline who lived out this way. He’d already done his homework on the case but he had no intention of sharing his info with her. Oh, God, she had to be here for the same case he’d been assigned to investigate.
He narrowed his already-narrowed eyes. “You’re doing a story for your stupid show on the Timberline Trio, aren’t you?”
“That stupid show, as you call it, got a point-six rating last year, more than half of those viewers in the prime demographic.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder as only Beth St. Regis could.
“Junk TV.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God. That’s why you’re here. You’re investigating the Timberline Trio.”
“What else would I be doing here?” He lifted one eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Do you think I followed you to Timberline?”
Red flags blazed in her cheeks. “Of course not. Why would I think that? What we had was...”
“Over.”
“Yeah, over.” She waved her hand in the general direction of his face. “Are you okay? I really did think you were that ex-con coming after me. Why did you grab my leg?”
“I thought you were falling in.”
“Through that small space?”
“I couldn’t see how big it was.”
“I was fine. As soon as I heard you coming, I got ready for the attack. You told me once I needed to be more careful, more aware of my surroundings.”
“Good to see you’re taking my advice...about something.” He ran a hand across his face once more and sniffled. “Where’s the rest of your crew, or are you a one-woman show now? I guess Beth St. Regis doesn’t need other people—unless she’s using them.”
Her nostrils flared but she ignored the barb. “I’m doing some prep work. My cameraman and producer will be coming out later.”
“And the circus will ensue.”
“If the FBI is involved, there really must be something to investigate.”
She brushed off her jeans that fit her a little too closely, so he kept his blurry eyes pinned to her face.
“Isn’t that why this case is on your radar? You must’ve heard about the new information we got during the investigation of the copycat kidnappings.” He cocked his head. “Come to think of it, I have a hard time believing the old Timberline Trio case is sexy enough for Cold Case Chronicles. Maybe you followed me out here.”
Her sky blue eyes widened for a split second and then she giggled nervously, her hand hovering near her mouth. “I have no idea what happened to you after...that last case, Duke Harper. You dumped me, and it’s not like I’ve been following your career or anything like a stalker.”
A thrill of pleasure winged through his body at her lie. So she’d been tracking him. What did that say about him that the thought gave him satisfaction? It also meant she knew about the royal screwup that had resulted in the death of his partner, Tony.
“That’s okay. I haven’t watched one of your shows, either.” The slight lift at the corner of her luscious lips told him she’d picked up on his lie, too.
“I suppose you’re not interested in joining forces, are you? Pooling our resources? We’re an unbeatable team. We proved that before.”
He snorted. She didn’t deserve an answer to that one. They’d been an unbeatable team in bed, too, but that hadn’t stopped her from playing him.
“What were you doing crawling around on the ground?” He pointed to the cover over the mine.
“Prep work.” She sealed her lips. “Where are you staying while you’re here?”
“Timberline Hotel.”
She raised her hand. “Me, too.”
He pasted on his best poker face. “Makes no difference to me.”
“Do you have a partner with you or are you working alone?”
A partner? The FBI would have a hard time trying to find someone to partner up with him after Tony. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a gnarled root coming up from the earth.
“Oh, come on, Duke. Whether or not you’re working with a partner is not giving up any classified info.”
He shrugged. He had no intention of giving this woman one morsel of information. She should know that working a cold case was like being exiled to Siberia—for him, anyway. This was punishment and he didn’t want to discuss his failure with her.
“I guess you’ll follow your leads and I’ll follow mine.” He circled his finger in the air. “How long have you been here?”
“Just a couple of days. I’m trying to get a feel for the place. I even brought my own video cam.”
A flock of birds shrieked and rose from a canopy of trees and the hair on the back of Duke’s neck stood up. Hunching forward, he crept toward the tree line.
“What are you doing?” Beth’s voice sounded like a shout and he put his finger to his lips.
Voices carried in the outdoors and those birds had taken off because something—or someone—had disturbed them. The abandoned mine was in a clearing, but dense forest and heavy underbrush hemmed it in on all sides.
The trail from the road had wound past an abandoned construction site to the clearing, and it continued on the other side. The birds had come from the other side.
He reached the beginning of the trail and took a few steps onto the path, his head cocked to one side. Leaves rustled and twigs snapped, but that could be animals going about their business. His gaze tracked through the blur of green, but he didn’t spot any movement or different colors.
City life had his senses on high alert, but a rural setting could pose just as much danger—of a different kind.
He exhaled slowly and returned to the clearing, where Beth waited for him, hands on her hips.
“What was all that about?”
He pointed to the sky. “Those birds took off like something startled them.”
“I told you I saw a rough-looking guy out here on a bike. Maybe it was him.”
“Doesn’t explain why he was hanging around. I don’t know that you should be traipsing around the forest by yourself.” He snorted. “You’re hardly an outdoor girl.”
She kicked a foot out. “I have the boots.”
He opened his mouth for a smart-ass reply but someone or something crashed through the bushes and they both jumped this time. Duke reached for the weapon tucked in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket and tensed his muscles.
He dropped his shoulders when three teenage boys came staggering into the clearing, laughing and pushing each other. The roughhousing came to an abrupt halt when they spotted Duke and Beth.
The tallest of the three boys stepped forward, holding a can of beer behind his back. “Is this, uh, official business or something?”
The other two edged back to the tree line, trying to hide their own beers.
“Nope. I was just leaving.” Duke leveled his finger at the boy. “But you’d better not be operating a motor vehicle.”
“Driving? No way, sir.”
Beth flashed her megawatt smile at the trio of teens. “Do you boys live here? I’m from the TV show Cold Case Chronicles, and we’re doing a show on the old Timberline Trio case.”
“Oh, hey, yeah. My mom watches that show all the time.”
One of the other boys, a pimple-faced kid with a shock of black hair, mimicked the tagline of the show in a deep voice. “Cold Case Chronicles...justice for all time.”
“That’s us.” Beth nodded. “So, how about it? Any of you know anything about that case? Parents around at the time?”
The one who’d spoken up first said, “Nah, we just moved here a few years ago when my mom got a job with Evergreen Software.”
The kid with the acne answered. “Same here.”
The dark-haired boy with the mocha skin who’d been quiet up to now ran a hand through his short hair. “My family was here, but they don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about it.”
“We?”
Duke rolled his eyes as Beth tilted her head, that one word implying a million questions if the boy wanted to pick one up. The teen had better run now if he wanted to avoid that steam train.
The tall, skinny boy answered for his friend. “Levon is Quileute. They believe in voodoo magic and boogeymen.”
Levon punched his friend in the arm and the tall kid dropped his beer where it fizzed out in the dirt. “Hey, man.”
All three boys picked up where they’d left off, crashing back into the woods, cursing at each other and laughing, startling a flock of birds with their raucousness.
“Well, that’s interesting.” Beth tapped the toe of her boot. “I wonder what that boy meant about the Quileute not talking about the crime. Did law enforcement ever question anyone from the tribe?”
“Not that I know of, but I’ll leave that to your superior investigative talents.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s been real, but I gotta go.”
“I guess I’ll see you around, Duke. We are in the same hotel, same small town, same case.”
“Don’t remind me.” He waved over his shoulder and hit the trail back to his rented SUV, putting as much space as possible between him and Beth St. Regis, his mind as jumbled as the carpet of mulch he was plowing through.
She looked the same, except for the clothes. Beth had always been a girlie-girl—high heels, dresses, manicured nails, perfect hair and makeup. The jeans, boots and down vest suited her. Hell, a burlap sack would suit Beth. She had the kind of delicate beauty that shifted his libido into overdrive.
He’d fantasized about those girls when he was a teen growing up on the wrong side of the tracks in Philly—the rich girls with the expensive clothes and cars, the kind of girl that wouldn’t give him the time of day unless she wanted to tick off her parents by running with a bad boy.
He’d been drawn to Beth like a magnet for all the wrong reasons. You couldn’t use a living, breathing person to fix whatever you’d missed in your childhood. But, man, it had felt good trying.
When he’d had Beth in bed, he couldn’t get enough of her soft porcelain skin, the way her breast fit neatly into the palm of his hand and the feel of her fine, silky hair running down his body.
The thought of those nights with Beth’s slim legs wrapped around his hips got him hard all over again, and he broke into a jog to work off the steam.
When he got to the car, he collapsed in the driver’s seat and downed half a bottle of water. Just his luck to run into the woman of his dreams on this nightmare assignment.
He dug his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and called his boss, Mickey Tedesco.
“I was just thinking about you, man. All settled in up there? I hear it’s some beautiful country.”
“Don’t try to sell this, Mick. I checked into my hotel and took a walk in the woods to have a look at where the kidnap victims were held a few months ago, not that those kidnappings had anything to do with the Timberline kidnappings, except that the brother of one of the original victims turned out to be the kidnapper.” He dragged in a breath. “Why am I doing this? Doesn’t the FBI have more urgent cases that need my attention?”
“You know why, Duke.” Mick coughed. “It’s always a good idea to ease back into work after a...um, situation.”
“I’m good to go, Mickey.” His hand tensed on the steering wheel. “I don’t need to be poking around a twenty-five-year-old kidnapping case based on some slim new evidence, which isn’t even evidence.”
“I don’t know. It may not have started out too promising, but you might be getting more than you bargained for, Duke. You might have yourself a hot one.”
A vision of Beth aiming her pepper spray—pepper spray he’d given her—at his face flashed across his mind. “I might be getting more than I bargained for, all right. That bogus Cold Case Chronicles show is out here nosing around.”
Mick sucked in a breath. “Beth St. Regis is there, in Timberline?”
“Yeah.” Mick knew a little about the drama that had gone on between him and Beth...but not all of it.
Mick whistled. “That makes total sense now.”
“It does?” Duke clenched his jaw. “Are they promo-ing the segment already? She doesn’t even have her crew out here.”
“No. It makes sense that Beth’s doing a show about the Timberline Trio because someone sent us an email about her yesterday.”
Duke’s pulse skipped a beat. “About Beth? What’d it say?”
“The email, untraceable of course, said ‘Stop Beth St. Regis.’”
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