Secrets Resurfaced

  Searching for the truth

  could get them killed...

  When new evidence surfaces about a tragic boating accident that put her ex-boyfriend’s father in prison, private investigator Dory Winslow’s determined to look into it. But now someone’s dead set on silencing her. And working with Chad Jaggert—the father of her secret child—may be the only way to survive the treacherous truth about the tragedy that once tore them apart.

  “I’m too heavy. I’ll pull us both in!”

  “I’ve got it fastened around the axle of your truck.”

  “Dory...”

  “Do it right now, Chad Dooley Jaggert!”

  Her shriek and the use of his full name punched through his pain. With one hand he managed to grab the rope. His numb fingers struggled against the nylon.

  “Hurry.” Dory’s voice was pitched high with panic.

  “I’ve almost done it. Get back to the truck,” he called to her.

  Once he got the rope fastened, she could haul him up quickly using the truck. Dory straightened suddenly, as if she’d heard something. He saw her knuckles whiten on the railing.

  “What is it?” he hollered over the wind.

  And then he felt it, too, the undulation of the bridge, the wood uncoiling like some giant snake. Too late.

  “Run, Dory!”

  He did not know if she heard him or not.

  With a spine-shivering moan the bridge collapsed. The rope slithered from his hands.

  As he pinwheeled into the darkness, he watched in helpless horror as Dory was thrown into the void alongside him.

  Dana Mentink is a national bestselling author. She has been honored to win two Carol Awards, a HOLT Medallion and an RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She’s authored more than thirty novels to date for Love Inspired Suspense and Harlequin Heartwarming. Dana loves feedback from her readers. Contact her at danamentink.com.

  Books by Dana Mentink

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Roughwater Ranch Cowboys

  Danger on the Ranch

  Deadly Christmas Pretense

  Cold Case Connection

  Secrets Resurfaced

  Gold Country Cowboys

  Cowboy Christmas Guardian

  Treacherous Trails

  Cowboy Bodyguard

  Lost Christmas Memories

  Pacific Coast Private Eyes

  Dangerous Tidings

  Seaside Secrets

  Abducted

  Dangerous Testimony

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Secrets Resurfaced

  Dana Mentink

  Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

  —Isaiah 43:18–19

  To Grandma and Grandpa Mentink, the perfect examples of selfless love and grace.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Texas Twin Abduction by Virginia Vaughan

  ONE

  Show yourself.

  Dory Winslow peered down into the darkening canyon, searching for her quarry in the lengthening shadows. Her muscles were cramped from crouching. Grit clung to her hair where it poked out from underneath her cap. If anyone saw her there, binoculars pressed to her eyes, face streaked with sweat from an unseasonably hot April, they might think she was a stalker. In a way, they’d be right. She lifted the binoculars, careful to angle them so the failing sunlight would not strike the lenses.

  Rocks bit into her elbow where she squeezed against the granite shelf. Far below, the rising silver moonlight reflected off the ribbon of river that eventually meandered along to the ocean. She took in the twisted rock layers, jutting here and there, white and porous. It might as well have been a desert canyon. Odd that not two miles away from this desolate spot was the magnificent central coast of California, a place where ranch land butted up to the beach, a breathtaking patchwork of grassland and surf unlike any other.

  The faintest saltwater freshness trickled across her senses and reawakened the familiar sorrow. She could never picture the ocean without thinking of what she’d lost to it. Chad Jaggert, her life here in Driftwood, their future, all turned upside down by the voracious sea. She recalled the moment five years before when she’d heard the tragic news. Her father, a private investigator for the DA’s office, had broken it to her as she’d returned from registering for her second semester of junior college classes. It had been exactly one month before her twentieth birthday.

  Honey, Chad’s father wrecked his boat and killed someone. It looks like the fool was drinking. He’s under arrest.

  Through the shock, she’d not missed the edge of satisfaction in her father’s tone, as if the tragedy was a validation for what he’d told her since she’d started dating Chad.

  He’s no good for you. His family’s a mess. You can do better than Chad Jaggert.

  Her dad despised Rocky Jaggert, pure and simple. Their rift had started long before she and Chad had even met.

  Her heart had split wide open in that moment for Chad and his father. But that had been only the beginning of the mess.

  Now the rock walls seemed to squeeze in, punishing her for her decision to come back, even temporarily.

  There’s nothing for you here but pain, she could almost hear them whisper.

  “And answers,” she mumbled through gritted teeth. She wasn’t leaving without those.

  A scraping noise snapped her to attention. Was it the scuff of a boot on the rocks? Or the natural sounds of the wind and weather? Frozen, she watched and listened. A bat winged over the canyon top. She tried to ease the cramp in her legs without changing position, a skill she’d learned over her five-year span as a private investigator under her father’s tutelage. Was the fugitive she sought finally within her sights? Had he heard her approach? Seen her Jeep parked in the dense cluster of forest that ringed the canyon?

  She ignored her screaming muscles and stayed stone-still. Most of the time, stillness was more effective than running. It had been a hard-learned lesson. Her father had drilled three things into Dory’s head. Do your research. Call in the cops when appropriate. Collect your fee. But there was one other rule she hadn’t followed this time. Always let someone know your location during a pursuit.

  Dory’d not told a single soul of her plans to return to Driftwood. It would be smart to send a text to her father now, to inform him of where she was in case things went wrong, but that would require explanations she was not prepared to give. Besides, she told herself, even if she’d wanted to, she probably wouldn’t get a signal, she was tucked so deep in this twisted nowhere. She was on her own, as she had been since Chad had cut her out of his life. Her fingers found the silver heart locket.

  No, not alone, she reminded herself.

 
This time she heard the unmistakable sound of movement from below. She focused the lenses, breath catching as she saw a hooded figure hiking along the stone-littered trail. She picked out the red glow of a cigarette.

  Blaze was a smoker—that much she knew. All the other attributes appeared to fit her target, also. She pegged him at midtwenties, tall and skinny and... Was that a glimpse of dark red hair she caught from underneath the hood? A hefty pack weighed the guy down and he stopped to flick the ash off his cigarette. He had the comfortable gait of someone familiar with the terrain. A shiver went up her spine. Her info had been right. Blaze was holing up in the canyon. Why, she couldn’t imagine, but now was not the time to speculate.

  She eased out her cell phone to take a picture, but her elbow set a rock into motion. She froze.

  “Someone there?” Blaze called.

  She willed every nerve to quiet, every muscle to still.

  After a moment, he took another drag on his cigarette and continued walking.

  She let out a gusty breath at how close she’d come to blowing it. She had to get a photo first, to prove he was who she suspected. Then there would be time for questions.

  She’d used every arsenal in her PI toolbox, but it hadn’t been easy. Her quarry had not accessed an ATM or credit card that she was aware of. He’d given a fake name, Brian Upton, at the halfway house where he’d last stayed and ridden buses or thumbed rides instead of renting a car. But Dory was very good at what she did. She had the patience and tenacity. It paid her bills.

  Only this time, she wasn’t after a paycheck. This time, it was personal.

  “I know who you really are,” Dory whispered to herself. “And you’re going to tell me the rest of your secrets, right here, right now.”

  * * *

  Chad Jaggert handed the clipboard to his adopted brother, Liam, without a word. He’d come to know Liam when ranch owners Gus and Ginny hired Chad on to do some extra chores when his father was drinking away their food money. Liam didn’t mind Chad’s silent tendencies and they’d become closer than blood, as he had with another ranch hand, Mitch Whitehorse. Liam perused the clipboard. On it was a meticulous record of three thousand head of cattle, including the calves that would be kept with their mothers until the late summer weaning.

  The springtime duties that had taken him over the sprawling property of Roughwater Ranch had been especially entertaining, thanks to the antics of the young calves and their reactions to Liam’s goofy dog Jingles and his equally goofy companion Meatball. If those dogs ever learned to herd properly, Chad would swallow his hat.

  His contentment at a day well spent on horseback had evaporated, however, when he’d returned to the corral and noted the agitation of their newest horse.

  The gelding was pawing at the ground and pacing the fence line.

  Most animals felt immediately better when joined with a herd. Family friend and horse breeder Tom Rourke warned before he’d delivered the horse that there could be some settling-in “issues.” He’d rescued Boss from an abandoned farm where he’d been completely alone, so there was no telling how the horse was feeling about his abrupt change of circumstances.

  Chad approached the fence. “Easy there, Boss.”

  Liam peered at Chad closely, dissecting him in that way only an ex–Green Beret could. “Problem?” Liam’s North Carolina drawl misled people into thinking he was laid-back and easygoing. Not even close.

  “Not sure,” Chad said.

  “Say again?”

  It didn’t matter that Liam was losing his hearing to otosclerosis. Liam would instinctively know that something was bothering Chad even if he couldn’t hear a single syllable.

  “Got our first veterans arriving next month, and I’m worried Boss might not be ready.”

  Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus were graciously allowing Chad to start up the Horses for Heroes program at the Roughwater Ranch. Though Chad had never served, all his life he’d wanted to help those who had, especially those who lived with horrors that had changed them. His own father, Rocky, a retired Marine, would only speak of his time in Vietnam in short, reluctant bursts.

  It was a great idea, rescued horses rescuing troubled vets. So why had he hit so many roadblocks? Red tape. Insurance issues. Now an unsettled horse. Detours. Why was he surprised? His life had been a series of them.

  Liam pulled on his cowboy hat. “Gonna be dark soon. Let’s take him out. Maybe some away time will do the trick.”

  “I’ll do it,” Chad said. “Maggie will be expecting you for dinner.”

  The mention of his new wife brought a smile to Liam’s lips. “She’s off tonight. We’re gonna go into town for some supper at the Chuckwagon and she has threatened to drag me to the dance floor.” He frowned. “But if you need me, I’ll call her and—”

  “Go.”

  “If you want a second opinion, maybe Mitch—”

  “He has a T-ball meeting.”

  Their older brother had barely made it through his ranch chores in time to hurry off to his wife, Jane, and adopted son, Charlie. Family time was precious to Mitch, each moment to be savored since he’d rescued Charlie from his biological father—Mitch’s brother, a serial killer.

  They’d all been working to fence off a pasture to accommodate the installation of the solar panels that would generate additional income for the ranch. The Roughwater, like every other ranch, was capital intensive and return deficient. Even with Liam’s assistance and the help of Tom Rourke, Mitch had almost not completed the job in time to meet his family.

  Liam had Maggie.

  Mitch had Jane and Charlie.

  His almost-sister Helen was enjoying her new life with Sergio and their twin girls after they’d almost been taken out during a cold-case investigation.

  Life was settling into a peaceful lull. Seemed like everyone had someone to go home to. Chad had almost had that once, too. He shrugged away the ache. “I got this,” he told Liam.

  Liam hesitated for another moment. “Call if you need backup. You know I’ll be there.”

  Chad decided that what Boss needed more than quiet time was a mentor. So he saddled his quarter horse Zephyr and led him out, leaving the gate open for Boss. He smoothed a hand over Zephyr’s chocolate-brown side. If his instincts were correct, Boss would follow his quiet, confident mount and they’d get some air and return. If he was wrong, Boss would take off and Chad and Zephyr would spend the rest of the night trying to recapture him.

  Though Chad was anxious to complete their outing before dark, he gave Boss all the time he needed. It was a small show of respect considering the horse’s troubled past. When Boss eased up behind them, Chad guided Zephyr away from the ranch along the western trail that led off the property.

  Tom Rourke called his cell. “Hey. Saw you going somewhere with Boss. What’s up?”

  “He’s acting stressed. Taking him for a ride, is all.”

  Tom sighed. “I wasn’t sure about bringing you that horse, but you know he’s a beauty.”

  “And you’re a sucker for a needy horse.”

  Tom laughed. “Guilty. Call if you need help.”

  Chad didn’t think he would, but he’d learned everything about ranching was unpredictable. Too many opportunities for disaster on an enormous property that was home to thousands of adult cattle that tipped the scales at twelve hundred pounds. The herd was not accustomed to a lot of human contact, except for that of the ranch hands.

  He and Zephyr set a brisk pace. The horse’s nostrils flared as he sampled the early evening air. Boss appeared to relax. Perhaps he was like Chad. They both relished their quiet time.

  Passing through the gate, Chad locked it behind them and they continued on.

  The grassy trail gradually sloped until they reached a spot where they could view the lower rim of the canyon. He reined Zephyr to a halt as a distant gleam caught his eye. He noted
a car tucked deep into the shadows on a shoulder of the road below. Too far away to see any hint of a driver. Odd time for someone to be visiting.

  The wind had picked up, skimming the top of the canyon and whirling grit into his eyes. He dismounted, knowing Zephyr would wait in the nearby vicinity. He’d bought the quarter horse from a man who’d kept him half starved and left him to suffer the pains of two fractured ribs. It had taken Chad six months of patient coaxing to get the horse to even take an apple from his hand. Now Zephyr was his devoted companion and they both trusted one another completely. He was banking on the hope that Boss would not stray from Zephyr in this lonely spot.

  “Stay close, Zeph,” he said. “And keep an eye on Boss.”

  The horse blew air through his lips and began to nose the nearby clumps of grass.

  Chad made his way to a spot from which he could observe the canyon. The failing light revealed a narrow path that carved its way through the jagged prongs of rock. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but he couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Something about the car...the time of day.

  He heard a noise. Faint, low and unmistakable. Feet moving fast but stealthily. Who was sneaking around? His senses buzzed on high alert. He ducked low and crept around a stout pinnacle of rock, peering into the dusk. And that was when the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

  He thought he must be hallucinating—imagining the woman who’d cut out a slab of his heart with her betrayal.

  All he could do was gape.

  Dory Winslow, white-blond hair tucked in a dark baseball cap, slim in black jeans and T-shirt, made her way gingerly to a clump of scrub. She was unaware of his presence.

  Breathing hard through the wallop to his stomach, Chad tried to focus. What was she doing? Why was she back in Driftwood after all these years, hunkered down in this isolated canyon?

  Heart slamming against his ribs, he watched as she eased a clump of grass away with her sneaker to reveal a rolled-up sleeping bag. He could not see anything else as she bent to examine what looked like a makeshift campsite.