скачать книгу бесплатно
Yuletide Peril
Irene Brand
When Janice Reid and her younger sister, Brooke, moved into their ancestral home, threatening letters and ominous phone calls made it obvious they were not welcome in Stanton, West Virginia. But Janice had always dreamed of providing a stable, safe home for Brooke, and she was determined to stay, no matter who wanted them out.For the first time, Lance Gordon, Brooke's principal, was worried about someone outside his small world–a beautiful woman and her little sister. He was afraid the "pranks" would escalate–and Janice would get hurt. Lance was determined to discover the source of the trouble, no matter what the cost.
“Do you know what caused your uncle’s death, Janice?”
Lance’s voice seemed troubled, and she glanced quickly toward him. “No.”
Taking a deep breath, Lance said, “He committed suicide at Mountjoy. There was some talk that he was murdered, but it looked more like suicide. The police department searched around a while, but they couldn’t prove anything.”
Janice’s optimism about her inheritance crashed. “My dad didn’t talk much about his family, but I’ve heard him say that someone in each generation of Reids died a tragic death.”
“Yes, that story goes around.” He hesitated, but Janice had to be warned. “It isn’t just any Reid, but the owner of this house.”
Her eyes widened. “If that’s the case, then I might be the next victim.”
IRENE BRAND
Writing has been a lifelong interest of this author, who says that she started her first novel when she was eleven years old and hasn’t finished it yet. However, since 1984 she’s published thirty-two contemporary and historical novels and three nonfiction titles. She started writing professionally in 1977 after she completed her master’s degree in history at Marshall University. Irene taught in secondary public schools for twenty-three years, but retired in 1989 to devote herself to writing.
Consistent involvement in the activities of her local church has been a source of inspiration for Irene’s work. Traveling with her husband, Rod, to all fifty states, and to thirty-two foreign countries has also inspired her writing. Irene is grateful to the many readers who have written to say that her inspiring stories and compelling portrayals of characters with strong faith have made a positive impression on their lives. You can write to her at P.O. Box 2770, Southside, WV 25187 or visit her Web site at www.irenebrand.com.
Yuletide Peril
Irene Brand
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.
—II Timothy 1:7
Thanks to Lieutenant Carl Peterson, Mason County Sheriff’s Office, for providing information about meth labs and other illegal drugs.
Dear Reader,
Thanks very much for reading this book, and I pray that it has been a blessing to you.
Since I’m a “from-scratch” type of cook, I wanted to share one of the recipes I mentioned in the book.
PORK CHOPS AND RICE
5–6 boneless pork chops
3 cups boiling water
4 bouillon cubes
1 cup rice
½ cup chopped celery
¼ cup chopped onions
¼ tsp pepper
Brown chops and remove from pan. Add water and bouillon cubes to pan and stir until dissolved. Add rice, celery, onions and pepper and stir. Put chops on top and bake at 300°F for 1½ hours.
When you prepare this recipe for your family, I hope you think of me and pray for my writing ministry.
Contents
Prologue
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
Prologue
The summer storm reached the old house as the fourth member of the gang stepped up on the porch. A clap of thunder, as loud as a mortar blast, rumbled across the metal roof. A bolt of lightning sliced the skies and struck a spruce tree, toppling half of the tree on the roof of the house. The man jumped as if he’d been shot and scuttled inside like a scared rabbit.
Another streak of lightning revealed three other men lounging on the dilapidated furniture. One of them laughed uproariously. “I believe the old house is getting to you, boss. We’d better can some of this noise—it’s better than what we’ve been using to scare people away.”
Rain blew in the broken windows soaking the ragged carpet, and the intermittent lightning revealed a room that at one time had been elegantly furnished. But time and the elements had taken a toll on the old house—its grandeur was a thing of the past.
Ignoring the comment, the newcomer took off his hat and shook the water from it. “We’ll have to suspend operations for a few days. The big heiress is coming to town. I don’t think she’ll visit the house, but just in case, be sure that everything is hidden. We don’t want any evidence that we’ve been using the house in case she gets nosy.”
“You say she ain’t apt to be around long,” the man who’d first spoken commented.
“Chances are she’ll pocket her money and leave without causing any trouble,” the leader of the group said.
“Don’t give me that baloney, man. I’ve been shadowing her for a month, and she strikes me as a stubborn woman who won’t be easy to scare. You’d better let me get rid of her.”
“No,” the leader said in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’ve got a good thing going here, and I won’t ruin it. If we kill the woman, we’ll have cops all over the place. Murder is not an option, for now, at least.”
Chapter One
Stanton was a step above her hometown of Willow Creek, but that still didn’t say much for the town where Janice Reid intended to make her home. Her primary reason for coming to Stanton was to meet with the lawyer who’d handled her uncle’s estate. As she braked at the town limits and drove slowly into Stanton, Janice focused her attention on the street in front of her, because she’d only had her driver’s license four weeks.
Brooke, her eleven-year-old sister, perched on the edge of the seat and watched for the office of Loren Santrock. Brooke located all of the fast-food restaurants, but she didn’t spot the lawyer’s office as they drove through the town.
Glancing at the fuel gauge of the car, Janice said, “Let’s stop for gas, then we’ll look for Mr. Santrock’s office again.” She pulled off the street, stopped by the pumps of a convenience store and took a deep breath, thankful that they’d made a safe journey. She didn’t have much confidence in her driving ability.
“What do you think of the town?” Janice asked Brooke. With a pensive glance at her sister, she added, “Does it look like a good place to live?”
“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t care where we live as long as we can finally be together.”
Janice’s throat tightened and tears stung her eyes. Brooke was only ten years younger than Janice, but she felt almost like her mother. She’d had the primary care of her sister until their parents were sent to prison when Janice was fourteen. Brooke was placed in a foster home and Janice had been sent to the Valley of Hope, a residential facility for children with a variety of problems. Janice had been allowed weekly visits with her sister, but the years before Janice could be Brooke’s legal guardian had passed slowly for both of them.
Janice leaned over and kissed Brooke’s cheek before she got out of the car. “We’ll be together from now on—that’s a promise.”
She took a credit card from her purse, stepped out of the car and flexed her muscles. Unaccustomed to buying gas, Janice carefully read the instructions on the pump before she inserted the credit card and punched the appropriate tabs.
While the tank filled, Brooke tried to make friends with a scrawny black Labrador that was standing on its hind legs, eating food from a trash can beside the store.
“Hey, Brooke! Don’t bother the dog. He might bite you.”
“He looks hungry. Is it okay if I give him one of our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“As long as you put it on the ground and let him pick it up. Don’t try to feed him. You don’t know if he has any diseases or fleas.”
Janice watched her sister while she waited for the receipt to print. Brooke took a sandwich from a plastic bag, unwrapped it and laid it a couple of feet from the dog. He seized the food, ran across the street and disappeared behind a residence.
“Look at him run!” Brooke said, laughing. “He must be awful hungry.”
“Wait in the car for me,” Janice called as she glanced over her shoulder at Brooke and started into the store. “I’ll ask for directions to the lawyer’s office.”
Brooke’s brown eyes widened. “Look out!”
Janice swung quickly toward the store just as a tall tawny-haired man opened the door and bumped into her. Janice staggered backward. The man’s strong arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and kept her from falling.
“That was a close call,” he said sternly. As if reprimanding a child, he added, “You should look where you’re going.”
Janice’s face flamed. Although she knew the man was right, she motioned toward her sister and quipped, “I preferred looking at what was behind me, rather than what was in front of me.”
Realizing that she was still in his embrace, Janice squirmed free, as with a pleasing grin, the man said, “Touché. Thanks for reminding me I wasn’t being careful, either.”
Janice lowered her gaze, deeply humiliated and irritated that she’d given way to one of her failings—a tendency to lash out at people when they criticized her. That wasn’t the way to start life in a new town.
“That was rude of me. Thanks for saving me from a fall. I should have been more alert.” Taking a deep unsteady breath, she stepped away from him.
The man’s short, wavy hair flowed backward from his high forehead, and his warm dark blue eyes clung to her heavily lashed green ones for a moment. His face reddened slightly, and he said, “No problem.” He strode purposely toward a black van parked at one of the pumps.
It took a lot to fluster Janice, but she realized that her pulse was racing. Surely it must be from the near fall, rather than the thrill she’d experienced when the man had embraced her. She hurried back to the car, slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
“Did you learn where to find the lawyer?” Brooke asked.
With a start, Janice remembered her reason for going into the store. “Oh, after I almost fell, I forgot about it. But Stanton is a small town. We’ll find his office.”
Traffic wasn’t heavy, and Janice drove slowly along Main Street, hoping to spot Santrock’s office. When they didn’t locate it, she said, “Let’s get out and walk. Since Stanton’s downtown area covers only a few blocks, it should be easy to find.”
She pulled into a diagonal parking space and fed the meter. They went into a drugstore and the clerk gave them directions to the lawyer’s office.
Brooke took Janice’s hand as they walked to his office, one block west of Main Street. Janice squeezed her sister’s hand, wondering how apprehensive Brooke was about their move. But if they didn’t like Stanton, she could sell the property she’d inherited from her uncle and return to Willow Creek. Despite their sordid family background, they’d been accepted there. People in Stanton might not be as understanding.
Janice hadn’t doubted her decision to move to Stanton until a few weeks ago when she’d read a letter from the uncle who’d willed his estate to her. A few of his words had seared her memory and they were foremost in her mind today.
I’ve recently become aware of some mysterious happenings at Mountjoy, but I intend to find out what’s going on. I pray that I haven’t saddled you with more trouble than you needed.
Santrock’s office was on the second floor of an old, two-story brick building, but his reception room was impressive. When her feet sunk into the thick gray carpet, Janice had the sensation of walking on a bed of woodland moss. The windows were dressed with long, heavy maroon draperies. A semicircular arrangement of wood veneer furniture, finished in cherry, dominated the room. The desktop held the very latest in computer equipment, including extralarge flat-screen monitors.
The middle-aged receptionist turned from her computer to welcome Janice and Brooke with a smile. The woman’s black suit obviously hadn’t come off the bargain racks where Janice bought her clothes. She felt ill at ease in such affluence.
“I’m Dot Banner,” the receptionist said. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’m Janice Reid. I have an appointment with Mr. Santrock.”
A somber look replaced the woman’s smile. “Mr. Santrock couldn’t be in the office today, and we didn’t know how to reach you. Did you come far?”
Irritated at this turn of events, Janice said bluntly, “Yes, I did. It’s a four-hour drive from Willow Creek, and I have to return in time for work tomorrow morning. This really puts me in a bind.”
Gesturing helplessly with her hand, the receptionist said, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Janice replied, her irritation evident in the tone of her voice. “I made this appointment two weeks ago to discuss my inheritance. Now that I’m twenty-one, Mr. Santrock said he’d have the papers ready to transfer the property and bank accounts to me today.”
