We'll Never Tell (Secrets of Ravenswood) Read online

  We’ll Never Tell

  Secrets of Ravenswood

  Book One

  By

  Jannine Gallant

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Other Books by Jannine Gallant

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Other Books in this Series

  About the Author

  We’ll Never Tell

  Secrets of Ravenswood Book One

  Copyright © 2013 by Jannine Gallant

  This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Jannine Gallant.

  Cover Art by Creative Author Services

  Published by Jannine Gallant

  United States of America

  Electronic Edition: March 2013

  Secrets of Ravenswood

  For three lifelong friends, will past tragedies haunt their futures—or open the door to love…

  We’ll Never Tell

  Three young girls witness a murder—and make a pact never to tell what they saw. But when the woman’s body is uncovered seventeen years later, the killer’s faith in their promise is shaken. A few deadly reminders may be in order…

  Samantha Beaumont knows it’s time to reveal the truth about what happened in the woods all those years ago—until the accidents begin. Fear that the killer will shut them up permanently leads Sam on a quest to protect her friends and expose the murderer’s identity. No one, certainly not the man she spent one memorable night with, will stop her.

  Ethan Thorne has no reason to believe Sam is any more interested in a commitment now than when she ran from him five years before. Still, he can’t resist trying one more time… When he realizes her life is in danger, he’ll risk everything for a chance at love.

  Other Books by Jannine Gallant

  She’ll Never Rest (Secrets of Ravenswood Book Two)

  A Deadly Love

  Nothing But Trouble (Honky Tonk Hearts)

  Bittersweet

  Maybe This Time (Class of ’85)

  After All These Years (Class of ’85)

  Lonely Road To You (Class of ’85)

  Victim Of Desire

  Coming Soon

  He’ll Never Know (Secrets of Ravenswood Book Three)

  Dedication

  To Margo Hoornstra, good friend, critique partner, and terrific author, I couldn’t have written this one without your invaluable suggestions and editing. Thank you!

  Chapter One

  “My mom will kill me if she finds out about this, Sam. Camping in a graveyard is just asking for trouble.”

  Samantha Beaumont ducked beneath the low limb of a fir tree before glancing over her shoulder at her friend. Moonlight filtered through the forest, casting shadows across the tense set of Darby Kincade’s shoulders.

  “Your mom won’t know if you don’t tell her. And, hey, if she does kill you, at least you’ll be in the right place.”

  “Ha, ha, you’re a riot.”

  “How come you’re so grumpy? Are you afraid of ghosts?”

  “Who cares about ghosts? I’m more afraid we’ll get eaten by a bear.” Juliette Shaw’s voice quavered, and she edged closer to Sam. “They won’t even know where to look for our bodies.”

  “Don’t be a chicken. Bears are more scared of us than we are of them.”

  “Doubtful, seriously doubtful,” Darby said and slapped at a mosquito.

  Sam rolled her eyes and plunged through the thimbleberry bushes. They’d lost the trail a half mile back, but she knew where she was going. The abandoned graveyard—if you could call a handful of toppled headstones a graveyard—was directly below Prophet Point. Even at night, the peak was visible, a dark shadow looming over the town of Ravenswood, nestled high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

  “We could have simply camped in your backyard if you’re so in love with the idea of sleeping with bugs,” Juliette said. “You didn’t have to drag us all the way up here.”

  “Where’s the fun in that? Summer’s been a major bore since school let out. Anyway, Wyatt dared me.”

  Darby stopped walking and fisted her hands on her hips. “I should have known there was a reason for this. Your brother’s an idiot.”

  “Yep, a complete moron, but you have to admit this is more exciting than a sleepover at one of our houses.” Sam hesitated at a thick stand of pine trees. Maybe they needed to head a little more to the north.

  “If you call getting eaten by mosquitoes fun.” Juliette waved her hands in front of her face.

  “I have repellent in my backpack.”

  “Can we put some on? I don’t want to get covered in bites.”

  Sam slid the pack off her shoulders. It hit the ground with a thump. “Good idea. We should have sprayed down before we left the house.”

  “What was that?” Darby asked in loud whisper.

  Sam’s head snapped up, and her hand clenched around the can of bug repellent. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Shhh, it sounded like voices.”

  “I bet it’s Wyatt, trying to scare us,” Juliette whispered.

  “Well, it’s working,” Darby whispered back.

  A female voice echoed through the night, speaking rapidly like the tinny squawk of a blue jay, rising in pitch. A lower voice answered, more controlled, but something about it sent a shiver down Sam’s spine.

  “That isn’t Wyatt,” she said.

  “Let’s get out of here.” In the moonlight, Juliette’s eyes were dark pools in her pale face. “I’m scared.”

  Sam squared her shoulders. Even if she was a little nervous, she certainly wouldn’t admit it to her best friends. “The lady sounds upset. Maybe they’re lost or something. They’re probably just dumb tourists. There’s a million of them around since summer started.”

  “Not our problem,” Darby hissed.

  “Let’s take a quick peek to make sure they aren’t in trouble. What if one of them is hurt?”

  “I don’t know…”

  Ignoring Juliette’s protest, Sam turned and pushed through the underbrush, her heart beating fast. The other girls fell in behind, so close they brushed against her with each step. Through the thinning trees ahead, the flickering flames of a campfire illuminated a tiny clearing. A woman faced in their direction, arms crossed over the chest of a bright pink jacket, hair glowing like a bronze halo in the firelight. A tall man stood with his back to them, wearing a navy blue parka and a knit ski hat. His hands were fisted at his sides. Sam edged behind a big cedar tree and held her breath.

  “You waited until we were here, in one of my favorite places, to tell me? You couldn’t have said something before we left home?” The man’s words cracked like a gunshot in the still air.

  “I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. You were so excited about this camping trip…” She hunched one shoulder. “Maybe waiting was a mistake.”

  “You think?” He kicked a rock, sending it ricocheting off the big stones circling the fire. “Are you going to tell me why you’re dumping me?”<
br />
  Darby tugged on the back of Sam’s sweatshirt. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

  Sam shook her head and pressed her finger to her lips. The drama unfolding at the campfire was better than the soap operas Mrs. Dennison watched while she was folding laundry.

  The woman dashed a hand across her eyes, leaving a smear of mascara on her pale cheek. “Our relationship just isn’t working.”

  He took a step toward her. “Is there someone else? Is that it?” His voice took on a menacing edge as it rose.

  Sam shrunk back against her friends, and Juliette let out a tiny whimper.

  “No! I swear I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

  “Is it that long haired pussy boy from your study group? He’s always around. I thought he was gay, or I would have—”

  The woman choked on a sob. “There isn’t anyone. You have to believe me.”

  The man moved forward, his steps slow and purposeful. When he grabbed her arm, she let out a cry.

  Blood roared in Sam’s ears. She stepped out from behind the tree.

  “Let go of me,” the woman screamed.

  “Bitch,” he shouted, giving her a shove.

  She fell backward and tripped, arms flailing. Her head hit one of the rocks circling the fire with a sickening thud.

  Sam’s stomach rolled.

  “Oh God, oh no.” The man knelt at the woman’s side and touched her face. Slowly he stood and backed away. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  Juliette was crying, gasping sobs muffled by her hands. Sam stared into her friend’s petrified eyes and opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She tried again, her voice a horse rasp. “Run.”

  They fled. Tree limbs slapped their faces, and dead branches crunched beneath their feet. Sam’s side ached with her labored breathing. Behind them footsteps pounded, drawing closer. Darby screamed, and Sam spun, her running shoes sliding in the pine needles. She went down hard on one knee.

  The man held Darby, his arm wrapped around her waist while she kicked and struggled. The knit hat was pulled low over his forehead, and the collar of his jacket was zipped high above his chin. In the dim moonlight, only his eyes were visible, narrowed dark orbs in the pale blur of his face.

  “Let go of her,” Sam yelled. Her legs trembled as she pushed up from the ground and clung to Juliette’s hand.

  His whole body shook with tremors as he clutched Darby tighter, eyes darting wildly about. “After we get something straight.” He gave Darby a hard shake, and she stilled. “You girls are going to go home, and you aren’t going to say a word about what you saw tonight.”

  His voice, low and threatening, sent an icy shiver sliding down Sam’s spine. “We won’t say a thing.”

  “No, we won’t,” Juliette whispered. “We promise.”

  “Do you know what’s going to happen if you do?”

  Darby’s eyes widened in terror, and tears trailed down her cheeks. “What?”

  He grasped her chin in his big hand. “If you tell, little girl, I won’t hurt you. I’ll hurt your friends, instead. That goes for each one of you. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

  Sam shook her head so hard it snapped. “We’ll never tell.”

  He let go of Darby, and she stumbled forward into Sam’s arms. “You better not. Ravenswood’s a small town. It’ll be a piece of cake to find out who you are.” He stepped deeper into the shadows. “Don’t do anything stupid. Got it?” Turning, he ran into the night.

  “Got it,” Sam whispered.

  ****

  Kneeling on the ground, Sam dug through her backpack. Everything was in it— sleeping bag, food, water, an extra jacket, flashlight, bug spray—everything but her journal. She bit her lip. She’d written personal stuff in there, stuff about how bad she felt when her parents left on one of their endless trips without her and Wyatt. She’d written pages and pages about Darby and Juliette, how they cared more about her than…

  She jerked the zipper closed with a hard yank and shrugged the pack onto her back. If the man from the campfire was the one who took her journal, he knew all about her and her friends. She let out a shaky breath. She’d wanted to ask one of the other girls to come with her to look for the pack, but Juliette had a ballet class and Darby was helping her mom with some project.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she pushed her way through the undergrowth, following the trail of broken branches they’d left the night before. Her steps slowed as she approached the clearing. In her head, she knew the man was long gone, but her heart thumped painfully, anyway. What if the woman wasn’t dead? What if she was still lying there, bleeding, waiting for someone to help her…

  After they’d reached the safety of Sam’s room the night before, they’d argued for hours, debating whether or not to tell someone what they’d seen. Sam wanted to go to the police. Juliette had begged her not to, afraid of what he would do to them if they did. Darby was on the fence, torn between emotion and duty. Finally, she’d sided with Juliette. It had been almost a relief, having the decision taken out of her hands. The three of them pinky swore on their friendship never to say a word.

  Sam stopped walking and blinked. This was the right place, wasn’t it? The area looked the same, except there wasn’t a fire pit. Holding her breath, she crossed to the middle of the clearing and pushed at the lumpy earth with the toe of her running shoe. Down under the dirt, she stirred up soggy ashes. Her breath whooshed out.

  He’d buried the fire. What else did he bury?

  Her legs shook as she hunted through the nearby woods, but all she found was a few blackened rocks scattered in the underbrush. None of them was covered with blood. The man had taken the woman away with him. She’d only been hurt, not dead. Not dead… Not dead… Sam pressed her hands against her face and forced back tears. Bending, she picked up her pack.

  The force of the blow knocked her flat. She screamed and rolled.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Off! Get off her, Max.”

  The voice penetrated the fog of fear, and Sam slowly opened her eyes. Soft brown spheres stared back from a furry face. Her tense muscles relaxed, and she sagged in relief. The half-grown yellow lab licked her face.

  “Gross.” She wiped slobber off her cheek with the back of her hand.

  “I said off!”

  The dog jerked backward, and Sam pushed herself onto her elbows. Red stained the cheekbones of the boy looking down at her. He had longish dark hair and eyes the color of the sky. Faded jeans and a T-shirt with a rip at the hem covered his lanky frame. Recognition hit her, and she scowled up at him.

  “I’m really sorry.” Leaning down, he offered her a hand.

  She clasped it, and let him pull her to her feet. “Way to control your dog, Ethan.”

  The red in Ethan Thorne’s cheeks deepened. “He’s still a puppy. Did he hurt you?”

  Sam brushed off the seat of her shorts and glanced down at her dirt streaked legs. “I’m filthy, not hurt.”

  They looked at each other, neither speaking. Ethan was three years her senior—fifteen, the same age as her brother. While the two boys weren’t exactly friends, she’d seen him around often enough. But never this close. Those blue eyes studying her so intently sent a little quiver through her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of pale.”

  Reality smacked her in the face, and she swayed. For the last five minutes she’d forgotten all about the woman who might or might not be dead, about the man who’d threatened them.

  Ethan reached out a hand to steady her. At his feet, the dog whined.

  Sam squared her shoulders and felt a hint of regret when he let go of her arm. The back of her neck heated, and she bent to scratch the dog’s ears. “I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

  The urge to tell him, to share the burden of knowledge, hit hard. She choked back the words trembling on her lips. “Nothing much. What’re you doing?”

  “Trying to train Max.”

  Sam’s l
ips curved as she pushed a limp strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’d say he’s a work in progress.”

  “Yeah.” Ethan looked down at the dog before raising his eyes to meet her gaze. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I guess I’ll go.”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  Chapter Two

  Seventeen Years Later…

  The ringing wouldn’t stop. Samantha Beaumont slapped the alarm clock, knocking it to the floor, but still the sound went on and on. A tsunami warning… God, not again.

  She swung her legs out of bed, feet hitting soft carpet instead of straw matting. Taking a deep breath to still her pounding heart, she shook herself fully awake. She was in her bedroom at Ravenswood, not in a South Pacific hut…

  The phone rang again, and she jumped, hitting her elbow on the nightstand. Her gaze flew to the upended alarm clock. Who would be calling her at five-thirty in the morning? Grabbing the receiver, she punched the talk button.

  “This better be good.”

  “Afraid not. I heard you were back in town.”

  “Ken?” Sam rubbed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Lost hiker.”

  She slumped against the pillows, picturing the twitching gray moustache and concerned brown eyes of Ravenswood’s fire chief. Ken Reeves was an institution. Heading up the local search and rescue team in addition to his duties as fire chief, the man could out hike and outlast most of the men on his crew, despite having celebrated his sixtieth birthday the year before.

  “I don’t work for you anymore.”

  “More’s the pity.” His sigh whistled through the phone line. “We could use the help. Some idiot tourist went off on his own yesterday and didn’t come back to the hotel last night. His wife’s description of his itinerary is, and I quote, ‘North, I think.’”