Shattered promises, p.1
Shattered Promises, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Linda Trout
Shattered Promises
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Also available from The Wild Rose Press
Randi fought for breath as all coherent thought evaporated into thin air. Black dots danced before her eyes and, for a moment, she thought she might pass out. Her eyes hadn’t deceived her earlier. Wade Malone was actually here.
But this wasn’t the skinny young man who had gone on that mission trip. Now, his body was fuller, broader. He was the same height, all six-foot-two of him, and his hair was the same sable color she remembered. Memories of his touch, his kisses, the love radiating from his deep blue eyes, assaulted her.
The Wade Malone she’d known had been kind, caring, loved life and always had a smile on his face. He loved people and would do anything to help them. That wasn’t the man who stood in her yard. This man looked at her with a surprised recognition, then just as quickly, disgust, if not outright hate.
A whimper welled up in her throat.
How could he be the same man who’d left her? The man she’d known had professed his undying love, yet had never returned. Had he found another woman and made his home in Columbia? Did he have children? Other children, her heart whispered.
The urge to run to him was tempered by his hard expression, the thin set of his lips. He had no idea of what she’d been forced to live through. Did he even care?
Praise for Linda Trout
Tangled Promises:
“This is a well told story with a lot going on and a twist that will surprise you. This author has life in a small town down perfectly.”
~ Coffee Time Romance
~*~
“One of the things I love about all of Ms. Trout's stories is how she weaves romance around a suspenseful plot.” ~ Linda Broday, New York Times Bestselling author
~*~
“Trout has a knack for realistic characters, interesting settings and surprise twists, and I always come away from her books wanting more.”
~ Marilyn Pappano, USA Today Bestselling author
~*~
Grave Secrets:
“Trout has penned a thrilling first novel filled with gripping dialogue and tension that's sure to have readers on the edge of their seat.”
~ RT Book Reviews
Shattered Promises
by
Linda Trout
Rock Ledge Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Shattered Promises
COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Linda Trout
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Rae Monet, Inc.
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2022
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4410-2
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4411-9
Rock Ledge Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To every author who has taken the time to encourage other writers to pursue their dreams, giving a hand-up in the process. Your inspirations show that it can, indeed, be done.
To the man of my dreams and my real-life hero, my husband, who continues to support me in all of my endeavors. I will always love you.
Chapter One
Randi Johnson didn’t think of herself as a recluse, but enjoyed the solitude of her remote home on forty acres in the Ozark Mountains more than she should. Today, fog so dense it reminded her of pea soup blanketed the area. About to settle down at the kitchen table with her morning coffee, she stopped when she heard an unusual low rumble. It became louder, shaking the dishes in the cabinets and the pictures danced on the walls. Her first thought was an earthquake. Except, they’d never had one in this region before.
She ran onto the porch as the roaring became louder. Was that a plane? If so, it sounded as if it were going to hit her house. Paralyzed with indecision, she was about to move—to where she didn’t know—when a mid-sized plane emerged from the fog as it plummeted from the sky. It would miss her home, but was so close she felt as if she could reach out and touch it…and saw the panic on the pilots’ faces.
As if in slow motion, she watched in horror as it ripped apart newly leafed out blackjack oak trees, shearing off pieces of the plane as it went. Then the ground shook with the impact, following closely by a deafening explosion.
“Nooo!”
****
It had only been a couple of hours since the plane had gone down… since Randi’s peaceful mountainside had erupted into chaos. Fog dipped and swirled around her as she sat huddled in her old work jacket. Morbid as it was, she couldn’t stop watching the activity from the safety of her front porch. Rescue workers moved in and out of view, trying to find survivors of the downed commuter plane. Rock Ledge, Arkansas, a small rural town, wasn’t equipped to handle this type of disaster. It wouldn’t have mattered how big the town was though, or what type of equipment they had…no one survived.
She knew because she’d looked, had tried to help. But it had been fruitless.
Now, she didn’t think she’d ever get the smell of diesel fuel—or burned flesh—out of her nostrils. Tears slid down her cheeks. Even with her eyes closed, the horrific images still assaulted her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t erase what she’d seen at the crash site earlier. Nor could she forget the awful ringing in her ears when the plane exploded. She’d expected to hear a lot of noise afterward; yet it’d been eerily quiet. Deathly quiet. The only sound had been the crackling fire burning portions of the plane and surrounding undergrowth.
On the step beside her lay a sooty and dirt covered baby doll. Why she’d picked it up at the crash site was beyond her. Except as a reminder of how fragile life was, of the life of a little girl who would never grow old enough to have children of her own. Randi brushed a bit more dirt off and made a mental note to give the doll to the authorities later so it could be returned to the child’s family. Or did all of the immediate family perish on the plane? Bile churned in her stomach at the thought.
Another large truck arrived. This time, men with chainsaws emerged, then began cutting and clearing a way to the wreckage. They hadn’t asked permission and they didn’t need it. Whatever they needed to do was fine by her…anything to get the debris off her property.
The older farmhouse wasn’t much to look at, but it was hers, free and clear. Over the years, she’d made some improvements inside and had enlarged the back deck, but overall, it still looked much the same as the day her grandmother had died and left it to her.
Fumbling for a tissue in her pocket, Randi swiped tears away and blew her nose. Moisture from the porch step seeped through her jeans, chilling her further. The deep fog had thickened during the early April morning, making the entire scene surreal, but now it lifted a little, allowing her to see people moving around more clearly. Then one man in particular caught her eye. His easy gait and carriage as he headed toward the crash site reminded her of someone.
Randi straightened. She blinked and strained for a better view, then sucked in a ragged breath. He looked like… No. It couldn’t be. Wade Malone. The only man she’d ever loved, yet who had chosen to walk out of her life.
A shiver of apprehension pricked at her as she peered intently, trying to get a better look at him. But the fog swirled up to obscure his face. Then he was gone–enveloped into the density from which he had emerged. Just as he’d disappeared nine years earlier. He’d left on a peace mission to Columbia, promising to come back to her. Only he never had. A month later she’d discovered a new, more personal issue to deal with. One that wouldn’t—couldn’t—wait for his return.
Randi pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. It’s an illusion. It’s not him. You know it’s not him! Her stomach twisted in knots even as she yearned for the ghost from her past. While in his arms she’d always been warm, loved and, most importantly, safe. But that was before. If only he hadn’t gone. If only…
Stop it. You can’t turn back the clock. Wishing for Wade to magically reappear, to hold her, to lovingly kiss her again, was asking the impossible. Even as she chastised herself, she pushed off the damp porch as if in a daze and followed the figure into the soupy moisture.
At the edge of her yard, she stopped and a shudder ran through her. Even though she wanted to know who the man was, she couldn’t force herself to go farther, to take one more step toward the disaster just out of view. As if in slow motion, she turned
and trudged back to the house, to her safe haven.
****
FBI Special Agent Wade Malone had made good time getting to the crash scene, especially taking into account the dangerous fog blanketing the immediate area. He had flown into Harrison, where, thankfully, the fog wasn’t as much of a problem. He had to admit, though, he’d been more than a little apprehensive about flying considering another plane had gone down, probably in part due to the limited visibility. Had that been the only reason? Or were other factors involved?
Driving along the winding two-lane highway, he missed the turnoff to the side road and had to find a place to turn around, then finally pulled down the long drive. Various vehicles clogged the single lane dirt road, including a couple of firetrucks with hoses stretched into the trees toward the wreckage. It appeared as if they had been able to contain the fire before the entire forest went up in flames. It surprised Wade how close to the road the wreckage was.
Forced to go farther down the private drive, he passed the initial point of impact where the plane first hit the tree line, and where several men were working with chainsaws to clear a path. When he found a spot to park, he realized it was someone’s yard. He could make out a house across the way, but not much else.
He changed from his regular shoes to boots, then shrugged into his FBI jacket and walked back toward the wreckage site, following the path the plane had taken. Once he’d entered the tree line, the rocky terrain made it difficult to get around, and debris from the plane hung suspended from the thick foliage. Normally, he compartmentalized these situations. Despite what most of his coworkers thought, he wasn’t heartless, just able to keep his emotions under lock and key. That was what made him so good at his job. It made him able to see his assignments with cold clarity.
He couldn’t do that this time, though. Bile clogged his throat. He did not want to go down there! He did not want to see what he was about to see. It was bad enough all on board were dead, but he had to find his best friend, Eric Logan, and identify his body. He refused to let anyone else do it. Wade owed it to Eric…owed it to his wife, Julie, and their three kids.
Multiple people were milling around and he managed to skirt them, not ready to talk. Actually, he wasn’t sure he could talk at this point.
Moving over the rough terrain was slow going and he was glad for his foresight in footwear. At times, the only way he knew he was still going in the right direction was from damage to the trees. That and parts of the aircraft littered the area. The fog was thick enough to obscure most of the damage from the planes impact, but he knew there would also be debris from luggage scattered around. Personal items of those onboard. Items of lives and families torn apart.
Stench from jet fuel and burned bodies reached him long before he came upon the actual wreckage, and it threw him back into the jungle from years ago. Nightmarish images slammed into him and he had to stop before he stumbled. He used a tree for support. Clenching his teeth, he closed his eyes and forced that year from his mind. Normally, he controlled his emotions and remained detached, even when working this sort of situation. But none of the other situations involved his best friend. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and moved on.
When he finally arrived at what was left of the fuselage, he was relieved to see the fire from the plane, as well as the surrounding forest, had mostly been put out, though there was an area of brush still burning. The local fire department was spraying it down now. The back portion of the plane was still fairly intact. He’d gotten the passenger manifest before leaving Kansas City and knew where Eric had been sitting. Another marshal had also been on the plane, but was farther up in an area that had been ripped apart. Wade had never met the man and would leave identifying his body to others. Right now, his focus was on his friend.
A few of the workers looked at him curiously as he approached, but they were too busy collecting bodies, and body parts, to pay him much attention. He stepped inside the plane through the gaping hole. At least this portion hadn’t burned. Keeping his eyes focused upward as much as possible, he tried his best to not look at the people still strapped in their seats, at the look of shock and terror frozen on their faces. Of the brokenness surrounding all of them. Slowly, he made his way to Eric’s seat.
Wade almost doubled over at the sight of his friend. If it weren’t for the odd angle in which his head hung, he’d look as if were simply sleeping. Squatting, Wade touched his hand. The hand he had shaken so many times, the hand that had slapped Wade on the back after they’d done a good job, or simply to give him a hard time when Eric had played a joke on him. The hand that had lovingly cupped his wife’s face before kissing her in front of everyone at the departmental picnic when she’d announced she was pregnant with their second child.
The hand that was now cold with rigor mortis.
Wade openly wept. For long minutes he allowed his normally contained emotions to wash over him, allowed himself to grieve for his friend. No one bothered him. Each person there felt the magnitude of the lives lost. Finally, he took in huge gulps of air, wiped his eyes, and stood. The dangling open handcuff from Eric’s left wrist a reminder of why he’d been on the plane to begin with. A simple prisoner transport. Something he had done multiple times. Only this time had been Eric’s final one.
One last deep breath, one last long look at his friend, then, “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll take care of Julie and the kids. I’ll look after them.”
He turned and made his way out of the fuselage, knowing Eric’s body would soon be transported, along with all the others. He intended to be one of the men moving him, but first, there were other things to attend to. Wade gulped down another lump in his throat.
Reeling in the emotions, he went in search of the lead investigator with the National Transportation Safety Board. He found Henry Webster, a stocky, balding man with an unlit cigar stuck between his teeth. Wade had worked with him in the past. “Webster.”
“Malone,” Henry said as the two men shook hands. “Got the call from your office. You got here quick.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard and forced the word out through his tight throat.
“I’ve informed my people you’ll be on-site, so you shouldn’t have any trouble. Sorry about the marshals.”
He took a deep breath to gather himself. “Thanks. Any theories on the cause of the crash?” Any specific reason why everyone on board had to die?
“Not yet, but according to the eyewitness, it was in one piece before impact so it doesn’t sound like a bomb. We’ll know more once we locate the black box and the cockpit voice recorder.”
Wade nodded, then turned his back on the grisly scene. It’d be a long time before he got the images out of his mind, especially of Eric. “I understand the prisoner they were escorting managed to survive the crash and escaped, but was later taken down.”
Webster grunted. “Yeah. Took a woman hostage and the sheriff was forced to shoot him.”
Good. He was dead. “That solves that problem.”
“Reckon so.”
He forced his mind back on track, wanting to know as much as possible about the crash. “Can someone direct me to the eyewitness?”
“Sure. The sheriff can take care of that. His name’s Jake Bennett.” Webster described what he looked like and wore.
They fell silent as two grim faced men carrying a stretcher passed nearby, then eerily faded ghost-like into the enveloping moisture. “Where are they taking the bodies?”
“A makeshift morgue’s been set up in a warehouse in town. Besides the school gym, it’s the only place large enough.” Henry stuck the cigar back in his mouth and walked away, leaving Wade to stare after him.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason. He never ignored those twitches, though. Not paying attention could prove fatal.
Numerous people who shouldn’t be there moved around the area. Among the FAA, NTSB and local firefighters were the media, and he even spotted a few scavengers darting in and out of the swirling mist. Who, besides scum of the earth, would want a souvenir of a plane crash? Anger pulsed through him at the thought of anyone touching anything of Eric’s. But, as much as he’d like to, he couldn’t stand over the body until it had been removed.
