Valley of Secrets

by Kari Lee Harmon

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Crime & Mystery

Synopsis

Anna Wilks went straight from her parents' house to her husband's. After thirteen years of trying to give him a son, she's told she's sterile. Her marriage crumbles and her husband leaves her for a younger woman who's pregnant with his child. Then, Anna finds her deceased aunt Annabeth's journal and discovers her secret. Having no idea who she is now that she can't be a wife and mother, Anna shocks her family by setting out on a desperate search to find herself. She follows her aunt's journal to Mystic Valley, Vermont.



Sully has no family and has been on his own since he was seventeen. He's worked all over the world, seeing war, poverty, and "real" tragedy. He has no time for helpless, pampered people like Anna. Yet Sully can't get Anna off his mind, refusing to coddle her and pushing her beyond her comfort zone until she surprises herself by discovering all she's capable of and just how strong she really is. Sully isn't anything like what Anna thought she wanted yet he's exactly what she needs, and he needs her even though he doesn't know it yet. Like Mystic Valley, he calls to her soul. And like her namesake, she finds the courage to go after what she wants, only to discover a love like she never knew existed. Except in searching for the meaning of life, she uncovers a valley of secrets that will threaten the new life she fought so hard to create.

Release date: September 7, 2021

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Sample

                                        Chapter 1

 “Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes,” Carl Jung.

The sun was shining the day Jordan Mills found out she was broken. It happened six months ago in the fall—the season of death. Syracuse, New York didn’t get much sunshine. When it did, it was considered a gift. But it didn’t feel like a gift to Jordan when shiny rays of hope blanketed everything as her whole world fell apart, much like it was doing today. A bright shiny day in the spring—the season of life.

A shiny day when Jordan’s life would change forever.

She set down the Sunday newspaper, pushed her untouched wheat toast away, inhaled the warmed lavender scented essential oil and strived for calm as she stared out the window of her fully restored landmark historic house not far from Syracuse University. A lot of the old buildings had been renovated and turned into apartments, but an apartment would never be good enough for her husband. They had the entire building to themselves, which normally she wouldn’t mind, but nothing was normal about her life anymore. She felt more alone than ever in a house this big.

The snow had melted. When had that happened? It wouldn’t be long before tulips poked their silky heads through the soft earth and bloomed with color. She used to love spring. Loved the time when everything was fresh and new. When everything started to grow. Life needed sun to grow. Maybe she didn’t get enough sun. Maybe that was why she was broken. She blinked and was taken back to the fall when everything began to die.

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Hamlin said, a genuine look of regret shadowing his haggard features.

He looked thinner than the last time she had seen him, his lab coat now one size too big. He was her husband Erik’s age, forty-three, but looked much older with a head full of gray hair and a lot more wrinkles. They’d gone to college together, Matthew graduating with an MD in obstetric gynecology and Erik with a PhD in literature. They had both chosen to stay in the area and work. They weren’t exactly close, but they’d never lost touch completely. Matthew was a top OBGYN doctor at University Hospital, and Erik was a professor at Syracuse University. Erik trusted Matthew, and Jordan had trusted Erik. Trusted him with her heart, her soul, and her future the day he’d swept her off her feet and asked her to marry him thirteen years ago.

She’d grown up as Jordanna Wilkinson at Wilkinson’s Winery on Cayuga Lake, the second largest of the central NY glacial Finger Lakes. She was one of six girls, with her being the youngest. She loved having sisters and her mother was kind, but Jordan had never really been like the rest of them. Her father was about as old-fashioned as they came, believing girls didn’t need an education. They were meant to be wives and mothers, pampered and cherished for all of their days.

That’s all Jordanna had ever known.

All of her sisters had gone on to happily marry and have children right out of high school, so when three years went by, she was terrified the fairy tale would never happen for her. And then what would she do? She could have sworn she heard someone whisper, Think for yourself. Get a life. Do whatever the hell you want to, back in those days, but she’d always laughed off her crazy thoughts and tried to stay positive. Hopeful. That’s why when handsome, dashing Erik Mills—nine years her senior—had shown up, he’d seemed like Prince Charming with golden blond hair and sky blue eyes.

Erik came from money. He was the last of the Mills and desperate to carry on his family’s name by having a son. As taken with Jordanna as she was with him, he made her Mrs. Jordan Mills and she couldn’t have been happier. They truly had been happy at first. He introduced her to a whole new life in Syracuse, showering her with gifts, pampering her with spa treatments and luxurious vacations, and proudly displaying her about at department parties. All she had to do in return was adore him and give him a son. They’d talked excitedly over names and whether the baby would look like him or have her auburn hair and jade green eyes. They’d even decorated a nursery, presumptuously assuming it would all be that easy.

Over the years their happiness began to fade as they tried and tried without success to conceive. The pressure became unbearable, but nothing compared to the disappointment simmering in Erik’s eyes. When he suggested they see his longtime friend, Jordan had agreed immediately, desperate to try anything that might help them have a baby. She just never imagined there would be nothing in the world that could possibly help them now.

“Are you sure, Matt?” Erik asked the doctor after clearing his throat.

Erik sat ramrod straight, his sweater vest a perfect fit over his casual cotton pants with matching shirt and tie, not a hair out of place. His usual work attire. Unlike Dr. Hamlin, Erik looked younger than his years and more handsome than ever. He couldn’t look at Jordan. Her stomach turned over. Why wouldn’t he look at her? She’d made sure she was impeccably dressed in the latest fashion with her hair artfully styled, her posture perfect, knowing she was a reflection of him. So why wouldn’t he look at her? She started to shake in the cold, impersonal exam room. Dr. Matthew Hamlin might be the best in his field, but he wasn’t exactly the warm fuzzy type. It was no shock that he wasn’t married.

Dr. Hamlin stared at Erik for a long moment and then nodded sadly. “I truly am sorry.”

The doctor wouldn’t look at Jordan either. She couldn’t seem to inhale enough air, the pungent scent of antiseptic making her queasy. Why wouldn’t anyone look at her? Her skin itched on the inside, and she wanted to crawl outside of her own body. A body that wasn’t a temple anymore but an empty useless cage. Oh my God, she was trapped inside an empty useless cage! She desperately wanted out, but there was nothing anyone could do about it. No one could help her now. Matt was the best. All hope was lost.

“I’m broken,” she said on barely more than a whisper, and something inside of her cracked. A sharp pain pierced her heart as the doctor’s words sank in.

She was sterile.

Her dream of becoming a mother would never happen now. Not ever. Because she wasn’t whole. She would never feel the flutter of new life growing inside of her womb. Never give birth to a precious creation that was a part of her. Never hold her child in her arms and look into eyes and see herself. Wasn’t that why God created woman? To give life. That was all she’d ever wanted. Wasn’t it? Of course it was.

After the shock wore off, the blame set in. Her skin was so fair, she’d always been lectured to stay out of the sun. Why had she listened? Everyone knew life needed sunlight to grow. She’d been so stupid to stay out of the sun. Suddenly she couldn’t blame Dr. Hamlin or Erik for not looking at her. Couldn’t blame her husband when she later found out he’d had an affair with a younger student of his and the woman was pregnant with his child. Couldn’t blame him when he filed for divorce and traded her in for something better. Someone whole.

A robin chirped outside Jordan’s window, bringing her back to the present. Back to the papers on her table that said her divorce was final. Back to the campus email stating Erik was the proud father of a healthy baby boy. Back to the newspaper article announcing his engagement. Jordan was numb. She hadn’t cried or yelled or done anything, really. For six months she’d sat alone, licking her wounds and slowly dying inside, no longer stylish and fashionable. What was the point?

No one wanted a broken woman.

Her parents were disappointed with all that had happened, of course, encouraging her to return to the vineyard and try again. She was only thirty-four after all. There was still hope she could remarry. She wasn’t that broken, and she could always adopt. She could start over. Maybe they were right. Six months was long enough to wallow in self-pity. She really should get on with her life, but how could she do anything when all she felt was empty inside?

Jordan couldn’t decide what to do because she’d never had to. Everything had always been decided for her. First by her family and then by Erik. Her mother begged her to at least come for lunch. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day. She and Erik had always gone to Sunday dinners at her parents with her siblings and their families, but Jordan hadn’t been back since Erik had left her, and her parents hadn’t pressed until now. Doing what she always did, Jordan listened to them, even though she’d come to hate the sun.

                                                            ***

A few hours later, Jordan arrived at Wilkinson’s Winery on the long, narrow, fingerlike Cayuga Lake. The place where she’d grown up. Her family home. She hadn’t appreciated it back then, but she was old enough now to realize how impressive the place really was. She drove her Mercedes down the long driveway past the large barn used to produce wine from several types of grapes. Jordan knew the winemaking process by heart: fermentation of the fruit, blending and aging the juice, then bottling and sealing the wine. She drove past the sophisticated wine cellar that housed the barrels and the charming tasting room until she reached the ancient two story colonial house overlooking the lake that had been in her family for generations. The house might be old, but it was impeccably kept with class and good taste.  

Her father used to be the winemaker, having learned the craft from his father who’d learned from his father before that and so on. For generations a Wilkinson had been at the helm, but Henry Wilkinson didn’t have any sons. Six daughters he pampered and adored but didn’t trust to take over. None of them had complained, happy in their roles of wives and mothers. At thirty-four, Jordan had no desire to take over, not that her father would let her. She’d left at twenty-one. Techniques had changed a lot since then with modern technology improvements she knew nothing about.

Come to think of it, she didn’t know much about a lot of things she suddenly realized. Did being pampered and cherished really involve being naïve? Ignorant? She sighed as she shut off the engine and stared at the house. How had she let her life come to this? Shallow emptiness with no depth. She knew how. She’d been so focused on adoring her husband and getting pregnant that she’d lost sight of everything else, including herself. She really should go in. They were all there with their husbands and children, waiting for her.

It was almost too much to bear.

Beyond the house stood rows of grapevines that called to her. Nature had always called to her soul, beckoning for her to do what, she wasn’t exactly sure. Today the urge to follow was stronger than ever. Jordan climbed out of her car and bypassed the house, heading for the vineyard. She tightened her sweater coat around her, as March in central NY could be quite chilly still. The snow had melted and the lake thawed out, looking pristine and beautiful in the distance. A calming presence that spoke to her. This place had always had that effect on her. The trees and vines were bare but would soon sprout leaves and buds now that spring was upon them. The whole winery had an air of elegance and refinery. In fact, her entire life had been elegant and refined.

Their winery was housed on the southern end of the lake near Ithaca. The northern end consisted of shallow mudflats and marshes that drew various migratory birds and encompassed a national wildlife refuge. Whereas the southern end consisted of boaters and sport fisherman. Jordan and her sisters used to hang out at the marina and the yacht club on the western shore. Their father had a boat, and they’d soon realized the club was an excellent place to meet eligible bachelors who measured up to his standards.

Jordan’s sisters had a much easier time of finding a husband than she did. They were all beautiful. Tall and elegant with various shades of blond hair and blue eyes like their mother. Jordan was the only one who looked different. Her father had brown hair back in the day—it was stark white now—and jade green eyes. She had her father’s eyes, but that’s where the resemblance ended. She looked much more like her Aunt Annabeth, with her fiery red hair and sparkling emerald green eyes, only Jordan’s hair was a darker auburn and eyes a paler green.

She smiled fondly as she walked through the rows of vines, running her fingers lightly over the branches, realizing she hadn’t thought of her aunt in years. Not since she was ten years old and her aunt passed away. Jordan’s smile faded sadly. She missed her aunt. Probably because her mother and sisters were elegant angels who enjoyed being pampered and cherished. Jordan remembered feeling a longing for something more like her aunt. She was the strongest most independent woman Jordan had ever known. Her father had named her Jordanna after her aunt Annabeth.

Henry had adored his sister when Jordan was born. Annabeth was ten years younger than Henry, who was thirty-five when he had Jordan. But as the years went by, Annabeth became fearless. Stubborn and strong willed, she had no desire to get married, shocking everyone. She’d defiantly changed her name to Anna Wilks as she grew increasingly bold, going on grand adventures and taking unnecessary risks, happy not to settle down. Happy with who she was. Happy to do whatever she damn well pleased Jordan had once heard her say. No matter how much Henry or their father had tried to talk sense into Annabeth, she wouldn’t listen.

Jordanna had wanted to be just like her.

When Anna died in a skydiving accident at thirty-five, Jordan was ten. She’d been devastated, but her father cut her grieving short and quickly steered her back on track where she grew up and forgot what it was like to be adventuresome and fearless. She thought she’d been happy with her role in life, until now. Jordan suddenly realized with the utmost clarity that it was the role of mother that had called to her, not so much the wife part. She’d simply accepted the rest in order to get what she wanted, but now it was all gone, and she was left with no idea who she was or what she wanted out of life. She still hadn’t cried. In fact, she didn’t remember crying much about anything since she was ten. She couldn’t because she felt hollow and empty, with nothing left inside. Not even tears.

Jordan looked up and realized she hadn’t walked this far through the vineyard since she was a child. She sucked in a breath as she looked at the strand of trees before her. The fort she and her aunt had built so many years ago was still there. For the first time in a long time she felt a spark of the carefree child full of excitement and wonder ignite within her. Biting her bottom lip, she looked around, but no one was nearby. She climbed into the circle of trees under the rotting wooden roof and sat on a large boulder. Once the leaves came in, the whole world would be shut out, just the way she and her aunt had liked it. The hideaway had been their secret haven. Their safe space to think and dream and write. Jordan had forgotten about that. She’d forgotten about this place.

She’d forgotten about a lot of things.

A strong desire to be close to her aunt settled over her, and Jordan wondered if the box was still there. Looking around frantically, she spotted the metal box barely visible beneath layers of old dried leaves and tucked under the blackberry bush where they used to hide it. Holding the box tight in both hands, she returned to the rock. Her heart started beating harder as she dropped to her knees to expose the precious contents from her youth.

She picked up the box, skimming her fingers along its rusted edges, anxious to rediscover the many hopes and dreams she’d stored inside. Inhaling a deep breath of crisp air that smelled like wet dirt and lake water, she pried the rusted lid open. Her lips parted for a moment, then she swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at her diary. Carefully picking it up, she flipped through the pages. The childish scribbling of a confused ten year old scrawled across the pages.

 

I don’t like when Daddy gets strict.

Why is Mommy crying?

Jill, Jessica, Jasmine, Jennifer and Jamie are so pretty.

Why am I so plain? I shouldn’t be a “J”.

I wish Aunt Annabeth was my Mommy. Why couldn’t I be an “A”?

Why did you have to go away, Aunt Anna?

You’re the bravest person I know, Aunt Anna.

I love you, and I promise I won’t let you down, Aunt Anna.

I’ll never forget you.

 

But she had let her aunt down, Jordan realized. She’d forgotten her. And now her aunt wasn’t the only one who was dead. Mrs. Jordan Mills was dead and Jordanna Wilkinson had died a long time ago. She didn’t know who she was anymore. The first tear rolled down her cheek, surprising her, and then the floodgates opened. Sobs wracked her body for her aunt, for herself, for her unborn child that would never be, for who she wasn’t, for all she’d lost. Her life was as dead as the trees surrounding her, never destined to bloom. She couldn’t catch her breath. It felt like forever that she sat on the rock and cried.

“What am I going to do now?” she finally said out loud just to hear a voice and not feel so alone.

Whatever you damn well please, came the whisper.

Jordan looked around startled, but no one was there. Her gaze fell down to her lap, and she blinked. Her aunt’s diary lay on top of hers now, with the spine flipped open to page one. How had that happened? Jordan swallowed hard. The only rule they had ever created was that their diaries were sacred and meant for their eyes only. They talked about everything, but they never talked about what they wrote. It was somehow more special that way. But now the book lay open like an invitation to read the passages and draw strength from her namesake when she needed it most.

Jordan was about to close the book, knowing it was wrong, but the words on the page grabbed hold of her and refused to let go. As if a force greater than herself was willing her to read on.

 

When I’m ready, I will die on my own terms, dammit!

 

The breath whooshed out of Jordan’s lungs as she discovered her aunt’s secret. She reread the entire passage to be sure her eyes weren’t playing a horrible, sick, twisted trick on her.

 

Life is so unfair. I waited way too long to start living. I let too many people try to tell me what to do and how to live my life, suppressing what I really wanted in hopes of making everyone happy. For what? One year? I only have one fucking year left to do what I want. A goddamned brain tumor. How is that possible? I don’t get sick. I feel fine. Well, that’s it, then. No one can know. I won’t allow it. I hate pity. I know what I’m going to do. I refuse to die. I choose to live.

When I’m ready, I will die on my own terms, dammit!

 

Her aunt was her age when she’d found out she had a cancerous brain tumor. That was when they’d built their fort and she’d started her journal, never letting on to Jordan or anyone else what was really going on. Her father kept saying he thought Anna was losing her mind with how crazy she was acting. And that if she wasn’t careful, she was going to die. But Jordan knew the truth now. Her aunt hadn’t been trying to die; she’d been trying to live. Jordan had known her aunt was brave, she’d just never realized how brave. They’d said her parachute never opened the day she went sky diving. The day she’d died. At least she didn’t suffer. She’d died doing something exciting while she was still full of life.

Flipping through the book, Jordan saw a year’s worth of entries. Her aunt had chosen to do one adventurous thing every day for the next year, opting to go without chemo or radiation because she’d wanted to live fully and in the moment. She didn’t want to be sick. She wanted to be free. Jordan didn’t realize she was softly crying again until she turned the last page and read:

 

To my darling Jordanna. You are strong and brave and beautiful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re special, baby. I can only hope you grow a mind of your own someday. You can do anything you set your mind to. Life is too short to live for others. So, honey, here’s my last piece of advice for you. When you are down on your luck and don’t know what to do, remember this…

Do whatever you damn well please!

 

                                             Chapter 2

 

“You’re what?” Henry Wilkinson stared at his youngest daughter in shock one week later.

They’d had a delicious pot-roast dinner prepared by his lovely wife, Mary, with his whole family there. The mouthwatering aromas still lingered, but the feeling of contentment and satisfaction had turned to one of indigestion as he tried to process what his daughter had just said. Everyone had gone home except for Jordanna, who’d been there yet hadn’t really been present the entire time. Mary stood by his side, looking elegant and refined and deeply troubled as she deferred to him to get to the bottom of all this crazy talk.

Jordanna had never shown up for lunch last Sunday, leaving them all frantic with worry. He’d nearly called the police but had tried her phone one last time. She’d answered and had said she had been there, but that an emergency had come up so she’d left. She refused to say what the emergency was, remaining suspiciously vague. She’d been acting strange ever since Erik had left her. Henry was furious with Erik for what he’d put his little girl through. He wasn’t worthy of Jordan’s love, yet Henry could understand how he felt in a way. After all, he himself had been blessed with six beautiful daughters. Yes, he would have liked to have had at least one son to carry on the winery, but he wasn’t complaining.

Children were gifts from God.

If Mary hadn’t been able to have children, it would have devastated him, but he wouldn’t have had an affair and left her for another woman. He would have simply adopted a baby, with a fine pedigree of course. He would have still had a family. Henry could understand why Jordanna was so upset as well. What woman didn’t want to be a wife and mother? He suddenly thought of his sister, Annabeth. He refused to call her Anna. She’d never had children. He now wondered if maybe she couldn’t. His Jordanna was so much like his sister, it would make sense if they were both infertile. Maybe that was why his sister had gone crazy in the end.

And now he was terrified Jordanna was headed for the same fate.

“I’m changing my name to Anna Wilks, selling my house, and moving to a place called Mystic Valley Vermont,” Jordanna repeated, trying to sound firm, but he heard the quake in her voice. There was still hope he could change her mind. And he’d be damned if he would call her Anna, either.

“But why, sweetheart?” Mary finally asked quietly, looking hurt. She smoothed her chicly styled golden blond hair and adjusted her lavender silk pantsuit.

“What’s wrong with your name?” Anger and disappointment surged through Henry. Not for the first time, he regretted letting Jordanna spend so much time with her aunt before she died.

“Nothing is wrong with my name, it’s just not who I am anymore. Neither is Mrs. Jordan Mills. Anna Wilks makes me feel inspired, and that’s something I need right now.”

“Why not move back here with us? We’ll set you on the right track. We know plenty of eligible men, many of whom already have children. You could start over,” Mary said, softly adding, “You could still be a mother.”

“I’ve accepted my fate, Mother,” Jordanna said with resolve. “I need this. I need to get away. It’s time I found out who I really am. What makes me happy?”

“You’re our daughter. You’ve always known what you wanted. You were meant to be a wife and mother. You just need time. Maybe you should talk to someone. I know a guy,” Henry said sternly, feeling every one of his sixty-nine years. She was thirty-four. His opinion didn’t carry as much weight as it once did, and for the first time ever he felt helpless. He didn’t like not being in control.

“No, father, you always knew what you wanted me to be. Frankly, I don’t have a clue.”

That much was apparent, he thought. She looked too thin and run down, her hair a little frizzy and her clothes wrinkled. Not at all put together like she used to be, and nothing like her immaculate sisters. Lord only knew what would happen if she went to a place like that by herself.

“But how will you live?” her mother asked, looking worried.

Jordanna’s face hardened stubbornly. “I have plenty of money thanks to Erik’s guilt.”

Henry felt like he was losing her. “Vermont!” he spat. “Why Vermont? I’ve never even heard of Mystic Valley. It’s sounds so…so…”

“Unrefined?” Jordanna finished his thought, and then added her own, “I think it sounds charming. Refined obviously hasn’t worked for me. Maybe it’s time I tried something else.”

“Like your Aunt Annabeth?” He grasped at any straw he could. “Look how she turned out. Why are you choosing to die? Because that’s exactly what will happen if you follow in her footsteps.” He shook his head and felt his perfectly styled hair slip out of its gelled place.

“I am following in her footsteps,” Jordanna said almost reverently. “I’m choosing to live.”

“How?” he asked, desperately adding in a loud voice a bit more harsh than he intended, “What in the hell are you going to do in a place like Mystic Valley Vermont?”

His baby looked him square in the eye, and for a moment he could swear he was staring at his sister come back from the dead, as she said with raised chin before walking out the door and not looking back, “Whatever I damn well please!”

                                              ***

Mystic Valley was a small, old-fashioned Vermont town, with rustic farmhouses and covered bridges. Worlds apart from a modern city like Syracuse, with its busy streets and high-rise buildings. Located in Maple County in the middle of the Vermont Piedmont, the town was nestled at the foothills of the Green Mountains between several rolling hills and lakes formed by glaciers. The surrounding forests gave off the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere, which was exactly where Anna wanted to be these days.

“Anna Wilks,” she tested the name out on her tongue and tried for a tentative smile.

She’d decided to start smiling more, and maybe someday soon it would feel natural again. Normal. She’d decided to do a lot of things on that sunny spring day two months ago as she’d sat in the fort she and her aunt had built, feeling her comforting presence all around her. Anna had decided to fulfill her promise to her aunt and not forget her ever again. She’d decided to leave the only home she’d ever known.

She’d decided to start living, no matter how hard it might seem.

After finding the brochure on Mystic Valley beneath the journals in the metal box, Anna had realized that was the next place on her aunt’s list to visit before she died. Her aunt had been all about making choices, deciding things for herself, and acting instead of being a passive lump of nothing. So Anna had made the choice to take her aunt’s name and pick up where she left off, no matter how scary. She would keep her aunt’s secret, and she would keep her journal as a guide for inspiration, because one thing was certain.

Anna didn’t have a clue how to take care of herself.

People had taken care of her for her entire life. She felt hopeful and even a little excited yet definitely terrified to try to make it on her own. It would be hard, but if her aunt could do it, then she could too. Anna had already lost herself. What more did she have to lose? She was desperate and hoped that by learning to be adventuresome and fearless, she just might get lucky and find herself. But that didn’t mean it would be easy or that she wasn’t scared.

Misty fog from the hills that blanketed the valley every morning began to burn off, revealing gorgeous May flowers in full bloom as Anna drove over a weathered-wood covered bridge into town. She rolled down the window of her Mercedes and breathed in what she hoped was new life. The smell of maple syrup wafted down from the sugar shacks high in the hills, mixing with the scent of pine. She’d done her homework before moving here. Sap was tapped in the spring and boiled into syrup, so all the residents were using fresh batches.

According to the brochure, they already had the maple syrup festival in April. Even though it was an old pamphlet, she imagined they would still hold these events. She’d been bummed she’d missed it, but next up should be the dairy festival this month, then the wildflower festival in June and the blueberry festival in July. She would participate in those for sure, even though she certainly couldn’t milk a cow, wasn’t very crafty, and her cooking was hardly mouth-watering to say the least. The county fair in August sounded like fun, followed by the apple and harvest festivals in September, the fall leaf peepers in October, antique shows in November and the winter carnival in January.

Anna was really looking forward to living in a town that banded together and celebrated every stage of life. She passed the small police department followed by a brick building the newspaper was housed in, then the town hall and post office as well as the only bank. A small gray building with a white and red striped pole that served as the sign for Nick’s Barber shop came into view.

Three middle-aged men sat in folding lawn chairs out front of the store window. One wore a fishing hat and puffed on his pipe as he studied her. This area had some of the best trout, perch, walleye, bass and pickerel fishing. At least that’s what the brochure had said. Another one huddled in a camo jacket and hat, smiling at her. White-tail deer, coyote, red fox and snowshoe hare provided an abundance of hunting for those so inclined. And the last one—who had to be Nick since he sported a white barber coat with a long comb and scissors sticking out of the pocket—waved as she drove by.

She smiled—her cheeks already aching—and waved back, thinking, See, that wasn’t so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to be happy either.

It would take time to heal her wounds and find herself, but time was exactly what she had plenty of, and quiet was something she craved. Mystic Valley was the epitome of quiet and peaceful and scenic. Glancing at the horizon, a series of isolated mountains called monadnocks dotted the landscape. She’d read about these in her research. The Indians had named these hard igneous rock formations—made of granite that resisted erosion—the island mountain place. The area boasted plenty of rock quarries full of granite, marble, slate, sand, gravel and stone.

A person could get lost here and never be found, Anna mused with a shiver, but shook off that scary thought, determined to stay positive and find her own way.

The surrounding forests were filled with conifers and northern hardwoods, as well as wild flowers and honeysuckle galore. And in the fall the hills would be speckled like paint on a canvas with brilliant red, orange and gold leaves from the various butternut, white pine, yellow Burch and sugar maple trees. A regular bird haven for the black raven, gray Canada Jay, saw-whet owl and endangered bald eagle who called this area their home. With Anna having come from a city, Mystic Valley appeared much more low-key with its many lumber mills, construction sites, dairy, grain and apple farms, as well as a multitude of small shops selling artisan foods and crafts.

Anna could be happy here, she decided. Something about this place called to her in a way that no other ever had. She could see why her aunt had been drawn to it.

She drove past a rustic house with two old women sitting in rocking chairs with colorful quilts over their laps and playing checkers on the front porch. They looked up curiously at Anna with a smile as well. This place was certainly friendly. Anna liked that. She needed friendly. Next she passed an old white roman catholic church with a steeple and a charming country store before finally arriving at Deb’s Diner. That’s where she was meeting her realtor, Misty Monroe. Anna’s mouth twisted into an amused grin. The place looked like an old train caboose: both clever and welcoming. She only hoped the patrons inside would be so as well, she thought as she pulled into a parking space and nervously stepped out of her car.

Heading toward the door, a man came out at the same time she was about to enter. He stopped abruptly before running into her, and then a slow smile spread across his All-American, boy-next-door handsome face. He was tall and muscular, with a sandy blond buzz cut that looked like he was in the military. He might be intimidating to most people, but his warm hazel eyes gave him away. They crinkled at the corners, making everything about him friendly, as though getting mad would be a struggle for him.

He was a big softie if ever she’d seen one.

“Officer Jones at your service, ma’am, but you can call me Drew. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before, so let me be the first one to say welcome to our town.” He held out his hand.

Ah, a police officer and not military. She’d been close, she thought, and couldn’t help smiling in return. For once it didn’t feel forced. “Thank you, Drew. I’m Anna Wilks, and you’re right. I’m new in town.” She slid her hand into his.

He folded his large palm around hers and gently shook it. Something told her everything about him was gentle. He would make some woman very lucky, not that she was looking for a new man. She’d just noticed the absence of a ring. Though these days, that didn’t seem to matter. Sadly, no one seemed to take their vows seriously anymore. She shook off her depressing thoughts and refused to think about Erik.

“Well, Miss Anna Wilks, I look forward to seeing you around.” Drew gave a slight bow. “Duty calls, but please don’t hesitate to give me a jingle if you need anything at all. You know where to find me.”

“I just might take you up on that,” Anna shocked herself by saying, realizing he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Something about him made a person want to lean on him. Like he could handle anything, and everything would be okay.

“Until we meet again, then.” Looking pleased, he held the door open for her and waved before walking away to his squad car.

Hope for a brighter future blossomed in Anna’s chest as she watched him go, feeling good about Mystic Valley. If all of the residents were like this, then she’d definitely made the right decision in moving here.

“Anna Wilks as I live and breathe. You’re a bitty thing if ever I’ve seen one,” someone squealed.

Anna whirled around to see a woman in her fifties with a bright orange beehive of hair and tiny spectacles on a chain, charging toward her as if she’d known Anna her entire life. She was a large woman and wobbled as she wove her way through the tables, waving and talking to everyone as she made her way to Anna to sweep her into a bear hug.

“Misty Monroe of Monroe Realty I hope?” Anna said on a wheeze as she awkwardly patted the woman’s back, trying not to faint from the overpowering perfume that made her eyes water.

“Oh posh, forgive me. Where are my manners? Of course I’m Misty.” The woman grabbed Anna’s arm and pulled her over to a table in the corner with a good view of the entire diner. The tables were mostly full, with sounds of silver clanking and the hum of conversation droning on as the delicious aromas made Anna’s stomach growl. “Come with me, doll. We’ll fix you up, right as rain. Get some good home cookin’ in ya and fatten you up a bit. You’ll never last a winter with no skin on your bones.”

“Oh, well, thank you, I guess.” Anna hadn’t had much of an appetite for quite some time and couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a full meal. Just one more thing she intended to rectify now that she was here. “Don’t worry. I’m from Syracuse. We get plenty of snow.”

“Honey, there’s snow and then there’s snow. Trust me, you’re gonna want some curves.” Misty patted Anna’s hand and winked. “So will the fellers. I saw you talking to Officer Jones outside. That man is a gift from God. Easy on the eyes and as sweet as pie. He’s helped just about everyone in town at one time or another, and is as unattached as the day the doctor cut his umbilical cord from his mama. Why, he’s the most eligible bachelor in the entire county. He’s just been waitin’ for the right woman to come along.”

“Drew seems very nice, but I’ve had my fill of fellers lately,” Anna said lightly with a smile she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Misty’s face softened sympathetically. “You’ve had a hard time of it, have you? Well you’ve come to the right place.” She patted Anna’s hand. “Mystic Valley is special. It has a way of healing a person. You’ll see.”

Anna felt her lips tremble, so she pressed them together and nodded in response, then picked up her menu. They ordered lunch, and heeding Misty’s words, Anna chose a burger instead of her usual salad. At five-foot-two, gaining five pounds looked more like twenty, or so Erik had told her. She’d always been conscious of keeping up appearances for his sake. Defiantly, she bit into the juicy burger with satisfaction and had to admit, it tasted heavenly. Misty told Anna all about the quaint colonial house she’d bought with its charming front porch. It was right in town on the main drag just down the street, so she could sit in her own rocker and people watch.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Anna said.

“And we will do just that, but first things first,” Misty said with a twinkle in her eye. “You can’t live in a small town and not know what’s what.”

It would take some getting used to, living in a small town, Anna thought. Back in Syracuse no one knew she existed except for Erik’s colleagues. Even before her world fell apart, she’d felt lonely. She just hadn’t realized how much. That was probably why she’d been so desperate for a baby. Something told her that in Mystic Valley, she would never lack for companionship.

“I’m all ears.” Anna’s lips tipped up slightly in amusement.

Misty spent the next thirty minutes filling Anna in on all the latest gossip and then excused herself to go to the ladies room. Anna noticed a young couple near the window with a small boy, and her heart gave a pang of envy. The boy went to the bathroom as well, and he’d no sooner left than the couple started arguing. Anna frowned. More like the man started lecturing. He kept his voice low, but it was obvious he was displeased with the woman. Her slight shoulders slumped, and she didn’t say a word. When the boy returned, they left as though nothing was wrong.

Anna knew all about keeping up the façade for appearance sake. She felt sorry for the woman. She’d often taken the brunt of Erik’s anger when something went wrong, especially at the end of their marriage. It was somehow her fault he didn’t get a raise, and her fault they didn’t get into a new restaurant, and her fault they couldn’t have a baby. Except in the end, it truly had been her fault.

 “If you’re ready, I’d really like to see my house now,” Anna said when Misty returned.

“It’s time.” Misty nodded and picked up the bill. “I insist,” she added at Anna’s look of protestation. “We don’t get many new people in town. You’re a treat.” She laughed. “Like I said, you’ll see.” And then she led the way to the counter to pay their bill.

Moments later they walked through the door with Misty in the lead. When she stepped to the side, Anna bumped into a guy probably around forty who had to be at least six-four. Over a foot taller than herself. And here she’d thought Drew was tall. She knocked the giant’s aviator sunglasses off by accident. He sported messy black curls, a five o-clock shadow, and intelligent stormy gray eyes. He reached out and caught her before she could fall, his huge hands wrapped around her slender arms until he steadied her.

He blinked, looking surprised and curious as he studied her. She stared wide-eyed with her lips parted, and for once, didn’t look away. He was big and burly and gruff—as unrefined as her new home, her father would undoubtedly say—but something about this man called to her soul the same way that Mystic Valley did. It didn’t make sense. Drew was much more her type than this grizzly bear. Then again, nothing that had happened to her this past year made sense either.

The man seemed to come to his senses first and let go of her to pick up his glasses. Taking a step back, he looked to the side at her Mercedes and then back at her with a frown. “That your car?” His voice came out deep and full of gravel.

She nodded, unable to form coherent words. What was wrong with her?

“You’re in my spot. Everyone knows this is my spot. Remember that next time.” He nodded at Misty and then walked inside with a noticeable limp.

Anna glanced at his large beat-up truck, then at her small immaculate Mercedes before asking, “Who was that?” She stared after his retreating frame. He wore a brown corduroy sport coat over a wrinkled blue shirt and tie, tucked into a pair of jeans that rested on top of enormous feet encased in work boots.

Misty sighed, shaking her head a little. “That was Editor-in-chief of the Mystic Valley Times, Mr. Clay Sullivan in the flesh.”

“And what exactly is his problem with me?”

“Sweetie, he doesn’t have a problem with you. He has a problem with the world, and I don’t have the energy or the time to explain. That, my dear, is a subject for another day.”

And that, Anna realized, was the first interesting thing to happen to her in months.

 

                                                   Chapter 3

 

“Listen up, everybody,” Mayor Earl Wilcox said, sweeping his charcoal gray wool cap off his big bald head. Conversations dwindled, the sounds of staplers and shuffling papers ceased, and a tension-filled, awkward silence ensued. He smiled apprehensively with watery blue eyes as he looked at each and every person in the police station, which wasn’t many. “This here’s Mystic Valley’s new police chief, Tessa Fitzgerald.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” a stocky older woman around five-seven, sporting short brown and gray hair and a wrinkled black and gold uniform, grumbled. Someone coughed as she nailed Tess with hard, equally brown eyes. She looked to be about the same age as the mayor—just this side of sixty—and obviously not thrilled with Tess’s presence.

Not exactly the way Tess wanted to start her first day on the job.

As a former Boston homicide detective, Tess had a habit of sizing people up and assessing a situation upon first glance. Her former life had demanded it if she’d wanted to survive. She had to remember Mystic Valley was a small, old-fashioned Vermont town. Night and day from her former home in Boston.

“Pam, please. It’s what the town council wanted,” the mayor pleaded beneath his breath with a familiarity that bespoke of more than just friendship between them. Pam glared at him and shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her. He sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit, as his gaze met Tess’s. “Chief Fitzgerald, this here’s Officer Calloway.”

“Everyone calls me Fitz.” Tess squared her shoulders as she held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

After a moment of hesitation and a grunt, Pam shook her hand harder than necessary, but Tess didn’t so much as flinch. She was used to opposition, though usually it came from the men in the field. Having a woman treat her this way was a first, leaving her with the impression that Pam must have wanted the job as chief for herself. Part of Tess could empathize. It was tough for a woman to succeed in this line of work. Back home, she worked hard to prove herself every day, but her buttons could only be pushed so far.

A muscular man probably in his late thirties, dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt with a sandy blond buzz cut and at least six-foot, stepped forward with a welcoming smile on his face. He held out his much larger hand and looked at her with warm hazel eyes. “Officer Andrew Jones, but you can call me Drew.”

Tess smiled back, liking the man already. A take charge kind of guy who didn’t stand around and wait for things to happen. Efficient and to the point, yet amicable. Kind of like herself. She could already tell he would be an asset to have around, once they rectified his attire, that is. She shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”

“And lastly, this here’s our new dispatcher, Randy Scott. He’s a rookie. Graduated from our neighboring military school, but decided he wanted to be a police officer instead of a soldier. He gets a little excited from time to time, but you won’t find anyone more dedicated and eager to please,” the mayor said with a wink.

“Chief, sir, er-ma’am, Chief. At your service.” Randy saluted her, every inch of his wiry five-ten frame stood at attention. His milk-chocolate skin was clean shaven, his dark hair precisely cut, and his uniform wrinkle free and crisp. He looked as though he was barely legal to drink, and Tess was beginning to feel like she needed one. This one would be a lot of work.

“At ease, Randy. Chief Fitz will do.” She held out her hand, and he finally relaxed, reaching forward and grasping her palm eagerly.

Tess blew out a breath, looking around the small quiet police station with the simple dispatch counter, chief’s office, a couple of desks for the officers, an interrogation room, and a couple of holding cells. White walls, nothing fancy. A far cry from the large noisy, cluttered precinct she’d come from. This place was a bit messy for her liking, with way too many personal items scattered about, but the food looked better here. Several pies and pastries instead of stale donuts lined the side table that held the coffee pot.

So this was it. She took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn’t come to regret this life-changing decision. The ever-present pain in her shoulder that the bullet had left behind reminded her of why she’d said yes. She couldn’t go back to homicide, but she didn’t know how to be anything else other than a cop. She was afraid that if she didn’t get back on the horse now, then she never would. Becoming a small town police chief had seemed to be the perfect compromise.

“Okay, then,” she said to the room in general, then promptly ushered Earl to the door. “Thank you, Mayor Wilcox. I’ll take it from here.”

He blinked, opening and closing his mouth several times, before clearing his throat. “Oh, okay. Guess I’ll be leavin’ then. I’ll be over at city hall with the town council. Give a holler if you need anything at all.”

“Will do.” She closed the door after him and then turned to her new four-man crew. Her smile was pleasant enough, but she knew if she didn’t firmly establish herself as the person in charge, they would walk all over her.

Smoothing her hair back and fixing the short strands at the base of her neck, Tess said, “First order of business, we need to get a few things straight.” She looked them each in the eye. “I like to run a tight, professional ship, with order and rules and people who follow them. There’s no room for rule breakers in our line of work. That means as police chief, I give the orders and you follow them. We clear?”

They all nodded slowly, except Pam who simply narrowed her eyes.

“Everyone wears a uniform—creased, tucked in, shined shoes, polished badge, the works,” Tess continued. “What you wear while on duty and how you carry yourself says a lot about you. Have some pride in yourselves as well as this department.”

Back in Boston, her department had worn tactical uniforms with cargo-pocket pants, BDU style shirts that held lots of gear, sturdy comfortable boots and a baseball-style cap. No ironing or creases necessary, going for a more practical ready-for-anything appearance that showed they meant business.

In Mystic Valley, the town council had made it clear they preferred a more traditional uniform that included ironed and creased dress shirts and ties, dress pants with no cargo pockets and black laced dress shoes, sporting a round hat with a badge. They were going for a more approachable community service based appearance that showed they were here to protect and serve. Either was fine with Tess, so long as they looked professional.

Randy beamed, while Drew arched a brow, and Pam outright scowled.

“Lose the white t-shirt beneath your uniform, Randy. Wear black. The last thing you want to create is the dreaded white triangle of death in low-light. When a bad guy’s eyes are drawn there, his gun follows his eyes. You’re giving them an easy target. Other than the brain, that’s one of the worst areas to get hit.” She’d found that out the hard way, she thought, but kept her face firm and no-nonsense as she pushed away the memory that threatened to be her undoing on a daily basis.

Randy paled, Drew looked thoughtful, and Pam smirked.

“Everyone shows up on time,” Tess continued.

Randy stood straighter, while Drew nodded approvingly, and Pam looked downright pissed off.

Tess finished with, “And finally no personal business while on the clock, including phone calls.”

Drew stared straight at Randy and Pam looked smug, while Randy flushed and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“Other than that, I’m not fussy. Let’s do our jobs, and we’ll all get along just fine.” Tess nodded once. End of discussion.

“Tess, isn’t it?” Pam said. “I hope you know our job mostly involves writing tickets and breaking up petty squabbles. Everything closes early here, and the people are simple. Their idea of a good time is sitting in lawn chairs out in front of the shops, people watching and playing checkers. Nothing fancy around here. I would imagine that kind of thing would get boring to a bigwig city girl like you. Why’d you come here, anyway?”

“I came here to protect and serve, Officer Calloway, no matter how small the crime may seem. And it’s Chief Fitz to you. Any other questions?” Tess stared the woman down until she blinked first and then looked questioningly at the other two.

They just shook their heads no and averted their gazes.

She didn’t enjoy being a hard ass, but establishing the top dog was necessary. Now that she had, she could ease up a bit and start to form some bonds. “Officer Scott, if you could order me some business cards and bring Chief Harper’s badge to my office, that would be great.” She smiled. “I don’t need his gun. I like to carry my own.”

The department used the Smith and Wesson because of its reliability and accuracy, but it was a bit large and heavy for a concealed carry. Tess had always preferred her Glock for its slimline design. The short width fit in her hands comfortably and made controlling the recoil very simple. It was easy to use, hard to see, and tough to face—just the way she liked it.

“Jones and Calloway, carry on with whatever cases you were working on. You’re both pros. I’m confident you know what you’re doing.” She tipped her head in their direction as a form of salute. “I will be in my office going over Harper’s files if anyone needs me.”

                                                            ***

“You can’t go in there, Sully. Chief Fitz doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Randy’s voice rang out, sounding panicked.

Tess had been going over the former chief’s files for the past few hours, but there wasn’t a lot to wrap up. Pam had been right. Not much happened in Mystic Valley. Tess had been considering taking a break when she’d heard raised voices coming from the dispatch desk. Standing up, she walked over to her door and opened it. “It’s okay, Officer Scott. I said I was free if anyone needed me.”

“Trust me, Chief, Clay Sullivan isn’t just anyone,” Randy said in a hushed voice, adding, “He’s a nuisance.”

Tess stepped through her door and saw a big bear of a man who looked to be a few years older than herself. A little rough around the edges, but in an interesting sort of way. She’d heard about the infamous Sully. Born and raised here, he’d gone to NYU and worked at a fancy newspaper, covering stories abroad and even a war.

He returned to help his mother after his father had passed away, working his way up to Editor-in-chief and then staying on after his mother died a couple years ago. He’d been the only child of much older parents. As far as she knew he was all alone, unlike her. She had an overprotective father and three older brothers all involved in law-enforcement, and a mother who was absolutely no help whatsoever. Ever since Tess’s accident, she sometimes wished she was alone. She couldn’t imagine what would keep a worldly man like Sully here, unless he was harboring a few demons of his own, which was definitely like her.

Unsmiling and no-nonsense, he gave her a two-finger salute. “Chief Fitz I take it?”

“Chief Sullivan, I’m guessing,” she responded with a raised brow. He was handsome in a rakish, rugged sort of way, but completely unpredictable and all about making waves, or so she had heard. The kind of guy she usually avoided. Besides, she was determined not to need anyone anymore. Not after what had happened.

“You’re much prettier than I’d expected,” he commented bluntly, studying her with an intensity that was unnerving. She had a feeling he didn’t hold anything back. If there was something on his mind, you would know it.

“I get that a lot,” she said in a neutral voice, not smiling either. “Don’t let it fool you. What can I do for you, Chief Sullivan?”

“Call me Sully. Can I call you Tess?”

She knew what he was doing. Trying to become familiar, break down her defenses. People who wanted a favor tended to do that. “Chief Fitz will be fine.”

“A stubborn blond with a no-nonsense Boston accent, just what Mystic Valley needs. I like that. Fitz it is,” he said, not fazed in the least.

She would have to watch out for this one. He was a rule breaker if she ever saw one, and she always followed the rules.

“I was hoping I could have a word with you,” he added.

She glanced at her watch. “I was just thinking of taking a break.” She stepped back and held her door open. “Please, come in.”

He hesitated, glancing around suspiciously. “How about coffee. My treat.” He led the way outside, walking with a slight limp.

Grabbing her regulation, standard-issued, black and gold jacket to ward off the chilly spring air, she followed, stepping out into the crystal clear sunlit afternoon, not a cloud in sight. The morning fog had burned off, thank God. She loved the sun. So full of life and energy and hope. She knew she would make a full physical recovery. It was her mental state of mind that worried her the most. She inhaled a cleansing breath, focusing on the here and now.

“Where’s your car?” she asked as she caught up to him, looking around the nearly empty parking lot while she zipped up her coat. The two Dodge Chargers were gone, which meant Calloway and Jones were out on patrol or responding to a call. The Dodge Ram was only used in special situations and remained at the station with the dispatcher. The only other vehicle in the lot was the black and blue Dodge Durango meant for the chief.

“I walked.” Clay shrugged. “Newspaper office is just down the street.” He patted his right thigh. “Gotta exercise the leg or it stiffens up something fierce.” At her raised brow, he added, “Old war injury. Walk with me?”

 “Sure.”

War was something she understood, whether far away in another country or on hometown city streets. Battles were fought, lives saved and lost every day, but the scars stayed forever, especially the mental ones. She fell into step beside him, yet was still several inches shy of being on equal footing with her five-foot-eleven inch height. Many men were intimidated by her height and her job. Needless to say, she didn’t date much, no matter how pretty they told her she was. Her father and brothers were tall, her mother being the only short one. She’d pretty much disappointed them all when she’d chosen law enforcement like her father over modeling like her mother.

“Where are we going?” She squinted, wishing she’d grabbed her sunglasses from her police SUV.

“No place fancy, but the best coffee you’ll ever drink. Sam’s Cafe.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need fancy. I wouldn’t be here if I did.” She adjusted her utility belt, feeling every ounce of the ten pounds it added to an officer when fully loaded with gear.

“Touché,” he said, and she relaxed a little.

After a while they fell into a comfortable silence, like they’d known each other for some time. Clay Sullivan was a mystery to her. Rugged and attractive and totally not her type, yet tough and honest and easy to talk to. Officer Drew Jones was the kind of man she usually went for, but they worked together, and she wasn’t about to go down that road again. He made it hard to concentrate, and she needed to keep a clear head. Stay focused. Stay independent where she would never need anyone again. But she could use a distraction to take her mind off her troubles.

Something told her Clay Sullivan was the man for the job.

                                                            ***

A half hour later, seated across the table from the mysterious, hard to read, yet undeniably attractive Chief Tessa Fitzgerald, Clay Sullivan tried to find the right words to bring up the subject of today’s meeting. At first he wasn’t sure what Tess would be like. He had to say he’d been pleasantly surprised. Pale blond hair in a simple chic cut, light blue eyes, and tall enough to make things easy. He liked easy, not complicated. Not like petite Anna Wilks with her soft auburn hair, mesmerizing green eyes and curves in all the right places. He’d only met her briefly, yet he hadn’t forgotten about her for the rest of the day. Her eyes had been full of surprise and wonder, sucker punching him with a sadness she couldn’t hide that made him want to take her in his arms and comfort her.

Instead, he’d acted like an ass.

He hated complicated, and he sure as hell didn’t need to get involved with someone who made him feel anything other than lust. Someone who needed to be taken care of, which was something he was no damn good at. She was too damned fragile to make it in Mystic Valley. She was a city girl, through and through. Country living would be way too rough and dangerous for her, she just didn’t know it. Dammit, he didn’t want or have time to worry about her. Bad things happened when his heart got involved. History had proven that much.

Focusing back on Tess he decided she was a damn sight for sore eyes in a small town like Mystic Valley. Strong, independent and fully in control, she didn’t look like she needed anyone. Maybe things would finally get interesting around here. His fresh-faced young and eager assistant was interesting enough, but she didn’t count because he worked with her, no matter how many times she told him that didn’t matter. He might not be a lot of things, but he was a man with principals.

Attractive or not, that didn’t matter. He’d brought Chief Fitz here for a reason today. She was tough and fair, he could see it in her eyes. He had plenty of nerve, but not a lot of tact, and his mouth had landed him in trouble more times than not. Pretty much shutting doors in his face all over town. Fitz was new to Mystic Valley. This might be the only shot he had at getting her on his side before the town council placed her firmly in their pocket.

“You may as well just come out with it,” she said after swallowing the last of her coffee and wiping her mouth with a napkin.

He’d already finished his coffee but had been stalling. She studied him with sharp blue eyes that told him she’d been through a lot. Seen a lot. Knew a lot. She looked at him through an imaginary magnifying glass, analyzing his every move, every word, as though she could read his mind and see deep into his soul. It was damned unnerving. And she spoke carefully, screening her words through a filter, her body ready to react at a moment’s notice. Being a homicide detective could do that to you. He wondered what must have happened to bring her to a town like Mystic Valley.

Nothing good, he was positive of that.

“I can see it’s eating you up inside. I’m the chief of police. It’s my job to listen and not judge.” She sat back and waited patiently after interrupting his thoughts.

“Blunt and to the point.” He dropped his napkin, deciding to just get it over with. “You don’t beat around the bush. I like that, too.” Though smiling felt awkward for him, he smiled at her just the same, striving to win her over. He needed someone on his side because no one else in this town was. He’d burned those bridges long ago. “I’ve decided I like you.” He waited a beat, testing her to see how she would react.

“The jury’s still out on my end,” she replied to his unasked question, her face not giving anything away.

He fought a grin. She had spunk and resolve, a sense of right and wrong, and a passion for seeking justice—she wasn’t the only one who’d done her homework. He’d always been good at seeing the truth. While he had grit, believed in the people’s right to know, and was just plain stubborn as a mule. Truth and justice for all … they were going to make a hell of a team. This was the woman he needed. Not Anna Wilks. He frowned over thinking of her again, and shook his head to clear it.

“What happened to not judging?” he asked, getting back on track.

“I’m not judging,” Tess said easily, taking a sip of her iced tea. “That doesn’t mean I have to like you.”

He did smile fully this time, and damned if it wasn’t genuine. “Fair enough.” He took a slug of his coffee. “It’s about a case I want you to look at.”

A crease marred her forehead. “What kind of case, and why didn’t you go through dispatch?”

“Because it’s a cold case,” he said carefully.

“Then why didn’t you bring it to the attention of Chief Harper?”

“I did.”

“And…?” She arched a sleek blond eyebrow at him.

“He shot me down,” Sully said point blank, earning a moment of silence. He couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong today. This case was the first case he’d ever worked on and one that had left him many a sleepless night but had never left his mind.

For over twenty long years, Cindy Taylor’s disappearance had haunted him.

“I see.” Tess studied him with a look that said she really didn’t. “What makes you think I won’t do the same?”

“I don’t know that you won’t. I simply have hope that you will give this file an unbiased, impartial look. I’m confident if you do, you will see the merit in reopening this case.”

She sat silent for a long moment, gnawing on the inside of her cheek as though he had peaked her interest, which was exactly what he’d hoped for. That the homicide detective in her wouldn’t be able to turn her back on an unsolved mystery.

“Why would Chief Harper dismiss the case if there was just cause to reopen it?” she finally asked.

Sully searched his mind for the right words. He’d followed so many leads on his own, but nothing had ever panned out and no one would help him keep looking. He just needed to know what had happened to Cindy once and for all. He decided to keep it simple and be honest. Tess seemed to like that sort of thing. Or as honest as he could, anyway. No one could ever know the full truth.

No one could ever know his secret.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe there isn’t just cause but that doesn’t mean Cindy doesn’t deserve justice.” Especially after what he’d done to her. “What I can tell you is that I’m not going to stop until I find out what happened to her.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I loved her.”