by Dana Mentink
Love Inspired Suspense March 2021 Box Set 2 of 2
Framed in Death Valley
Deadly River Pursuit
Abducted in Alaska
Dana Mentink
Heather Woodhaven
Darlene L. Turner
Table of Contents
Framed in Death Valley
By Dana Mentink
Deadly River Pursuit
By Heather Woodhaven
Abducted in Alaska
By Darlene L. Turner
It was futile. The car was nearly upon them…
Abruptly, Beckett grabbed Laney’s arm and pulled her to the side.
They watched as the car continued straight ahead and smashed front first into the rear of their van. Glass spewed in all directions. Metal crumpled with a squeal that drowned out Laney’s scream.
They were alive. She hugged herself in disbelief, but Beckett was urging her up.
“Keep going. Don’t stop.”
“I can’t…” she panted.
“We have to run to the ruins,” he commanded. “Come on. I’ll help you.”
The ruins? The old borax works were unstable, treacherous piles of loose brick concealed by the pitch dark.
The sound of shifting gears caught her attention. She managed to turn her head, and over Beckett’s shoulder she saw the car reversing, pulling free from the wrecked van with the sound of shearing metal that set her teeth on edge.
Horror nearly overwhelmed her. The nightmare was not over.
He was still coming for them…
Dana Mentink is a nationally 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
Desert Justice
Framed in Death Valley
True Blue K-9 Unit: Brooklyn
Cold Case Pursuit
True Blue K-9 Unit
Shield of Protection
Act of Valor
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
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Framed in Death Valley
Dana Mentink
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
—Romans 8:1
For Ann, my golden-hearted friend who has given so much to so many.
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
CHAPTER ONE
Beckett Duke hunched in the passenger seat, avoiding the narrowing gaze of the man who’d given him a lift.
The radio news reporter delivered the words impassively, but they hit like bombs. “The murder case against local firefighter Beckett Duke was dismissed due to improper police procedure. Duke was released from jail this morning, according to Inyo County’s DA’s office. He was awaiting trial for the murder of Pauline Sanderson, a forty-two-year-old nurse visiting Death Valley National Park. Her body was found on the grounds of the Hotsprings Hotel.”
The man behind the wheel squinted suddenly, his gaze sliding from the radio to Beckett as he put the thing together in his mind. Beckett pulled his baseball cap down farther on his brow, but the damage was already done.
“My vision ain’t so good anymore and you look different without your beard. If I’da known who you were,” the man growled, “I might have run you down instead of given you a lift. Get out.”
Though they were still more than a mile from the Hotsprings Hotel and the late-October temperatures were cracking the ninety-degree mark, Beckett did as he was told, struggling to eject his six-foot-four frame from the front seat. The sun beat down on him with hammer blows.
Before he drove off, the man rolled down his window. “You got some nerve comin’ back here, Beckett Duke. I hope you get what’s coming to you.”
Beckett didn’t reply, just stood there in the ferocious heat, jaw tight as the man delivered the final blow. “You’ve always been a monster,” he added, before leaving Beckett in a cloud of exhaust.
Monster, a title he’d earned in high school. Even now, at age forty-three, he could remember the exact moment when he’d executed the throw in the wrestling match. But something had gone wrong. He’d been too quick, too forceful. He heard the snap of his opponent’s neck, instant collapse, moaning. The hush in that shocked high school auditorium echoed louder in his memory than the aftermath of boos and shouted insults that would follow. Beckett had caused a head injury that blinded a young man with a brilliant future ahead, a full-ride scholarship to an Ivy League school. One moment had ruined both their lives.
Out of that terrible event came the parade of accusations, blame and paralyzing self-doubt. Hadn’t he realized that Dan Wheatly was not confident? That he hadn’t been fully ready for Beckett’s overeager attack?
Bully.
Animal.
Monster.
He swiped a hand across his sweating brow. That was twenty-six years ago. It had no bearing on his current situation, which was dire enough. The message had been delivered to him in jail three days before, in the form of punches that blackened his eye and busted his lip, kicks that bruised his ribs, while the other inmates cheered and hooted.
How does it feel, tough guy? The beating hadn’t scared him nearly as bad as the whisper in his ear from the two prisoners who held him down and pummeled him. Kenny is going to kill you for what you did to his sister. It wasn’t a threat, but a promise. Paroled felon Kenny Sanderson intended to kill him. That he could accept. His life was over anyway, his reputation in tatters, his heart so numb it could have been replaced by a hunk of solid stone. It was the second part of the message that reverberated in his ears like a scream echoing along a desert canyon.
And your wife too.
Laney. They’d been married exactly thirty-seven days before he’d found Pauline Sanderson’s body. On that hideous morning he’d discovered her dumped in a wooded culvert on hotel property, not a stone’s throw from Death Valley National Park. Pauline, his former high school flame, had been looking for him—left a message, in fact.
I have to talk to you. Urgent.
He should have told Laney. No secrets, they’d agreed. Nothing should cloud the absolute joy of their unlikely marriage, not the twelve-year age differen
ce, not the infertility she could still not accept, not the hard work of running his family’s hotel in the middle of the most hostile environment in the world. Nothing could ever have separated them, short of murder. As the situation snowballed, the only way to save her from the hatred and stain of being married to the most reviled man in Furnace Falls was a divorce. His jailhouse beating courtesy of Kenny had only confirmed that. The divorce would give her a future and keep her safe. It was her one chance, and it nearly killed him to contact the lawyer.
Yet here he was, in the same disheveled clothes he’d been wearing when he’d been remanded to the county jail, jeans, a Furnace Falls Fire Department T-shirt and a pair of steel-toed boots, squinting at the entrance to the Hotsprings Hotel.
The squat wood-paneled front office faced a view of the mountains. The smell of slow-cooked brisket beckoned. Herm Devendorf would have started the big iron pot simmering that morning for the dinner service. His mouth watered.
The hotel had been his home away from home since he was eight years old and his mother passed of cancer, helping out his father, who’d later deeded him the place. His cousin Jude used to swim in the pool with him when they were kids. They’d roam the sun-soaked acres of salt flats and desert scrub and then plunge into the pool until hunger drove them out. How times changed. Now Jude was a cop who hadn’t offered a word of support when Beckett had been arrested. No surprise there. Jude’s animosity spanned into the past to that day when Beckett had blinded Dan, Jude’s best friend, in that wrestling ring.
“You can do this,” he told himself. Heart thumping, he forced his legs to carry him toward the front. The driveway led to the registration office. Nearby he saw the hotel shuttle parked in a discreet spot.
Then Laney walked out the front door, offering that bright smile that he dreamed about to a visitor on the porch. He forgot everything but the pain arcing straight to his core. Her long honey-colored hair was pulled into a high ponytail that cascaded down her shoulders over a loose-fitting T-shirt. Leggings hugged her trim calves.
Laney. His Laney. She appeared tired as she moved toward the hotel van. She’d always been petite and delicate, her wrists so small he’d marveled at how he could wrap his thumb and forefinger completely around. And the smallest feet, she could almost fit two of them into one of his big old clodhoppers.
As she opened the driver’s-side door, her scream cut the air and she stumbled back.
In spite of the searing heat, his body went cold. Had Kenny Sanderson already arrived to make good on his threats?
“Please, God,” he said, as he began to sprint. “Don’t let me be too late.”
* * *
Laney tumbled backward, shock still ripping through her. There in the front seat she could see the snake clearly, a buff-colored body with darker blotches and a wedge-shaped head. Its forked tongue sampled the air. The little rattles vibrated their warning.
If she hadn’t been paying attention, she might have sat right down on the venomous creature. She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, frozen, staring into the gleaming eyes of the viper.
The rational side of her brain told her it was a Mojave Desert Sidewinder, and its bite, contrary to belief, was not fatal. Still, the fear seized control of her mind; she could not be bitten by this rattler, not now.
She told herself to freeze and slowly, ever so slowly, back away. It was too late. Should she try to reach out for the door or run? But the viper had a striking distance measuring a third of its body.
Those fangs…the fear…
The snake reared forward. Her scream was high and shrill as she braced for a bite. Instinct caused her to jerk up her hand to shield herself. Then, as if she were dreaming, Beckett was there. He dived into her field of vision and kicked the car door closed.
She sank to her knees, unable to still her trembling as she heard the sound of the fangs striking the inside of the van door. Her whole body shook. The snake was one thing; having Beckett show up was just as shocking.
Beckett knelt next to her and grasped her arm. “Did it bite you?”
“No. I’m fine. It just scared me, is all.” She pushed the words out.
His fingers rested on her wrist for a moment. “You’re shaking.”
She detached herself from his touch, unable to tear her gaze from him. “I’m okay.” It was a mantra she’d been repeating to herself since the day Pauline Sanderson’s body had been found on the property and all her dreams had dried up and blown away. No, not quite then. She’d still believed with all her heart that she and Beckett would be together forever, for better or worse, and she’d continued believing that right up until the divorce papers arrived. “I’m really okay,” she repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it somehow true. Shading her eyes, she stared. “What are you doing here?”
She’d heard he was being released, but she hadn’t thought he’d show up at the hotel. She got to her feet so quickly she swayed. Beckett steadied her, but she had to bend over until the dizziness subsided. Emotions rampaged through her from relief that he was free, disbelief that he’d chosen to return, but eclipsing all was the tearing sadness in her heart in the place where love used to be.
Beckett Duke, the man she thought would be her soul mate forever, was now just a stranger like all the rest of the people who paraded on and off the hotel property. She swallowed a lump in her throat.
He looked different: his tall frame thinner. His face was gaunt, his dark hair cut prison short. Her breath caught at the damage to his face: blackened eye, a cut across the bridge of his nose. What happened? she wondered, but she would not ask.
“Laney,” he said, breathing fast from his run. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
The sheer irony of the question. She blinked, staring, unable to process. How could he even ask it? “I told you I’m okay, but you haven’t explained what you’re doing here.” She couldn’t stop the bitterness from spilling out. “Checking to see if I signed the divorce papers yet?”
The word divorce burned like poison in her mouth. In fact, the papers still sat in her desk drawer, waiting for her signature, a scrawled name that would mean an end to a relationship she’d thought was God ordained. Her head began to pound.
Jude Duke pulled up in his patrol car, stepped out and hustled over. He shot Beckett a hostile glare, the sun glinting off his sheriff’s badge. He was a few inches shorter than Beckett, his eyes hazel to Beckett’s brown. “Mom wanted me to bring you some jam, Laney.” He must have seen the distress on her face because he asked, “What happened?”
Beckett explained about the snake.
“Are you bitten?” Jude asked.
Laney shook her head, hoping her voice sounded steady. “I brought supplies back from the park for one of the guests. The snake must have crawled into his pack before we loaded it in the back.” Was she really calmly explaining things in front of her soon-to-be-former husband?
Jude nodded. “Snake hitchhiked out of the park, huh? I’ll call animal control.” He stepped away to speak into his radio.
Beckett kept those chocolate eyes on her until she thought she would scream. They were not the same eyes she remembered. They were harder, duller and missing something she could not identify. “I need to talk to you, Laney. Privately,” he said.
Oh, how she’d wanted to talk, begged him through letters and stilted jail phone conversations. She would have done anything to talk to Beckett and make him see she believed in him no matter what, that she’d stand by him every day of his life. Now it was too late. She shook her head, willing herself to return his gaze. “You made it clear what you wanted, Beck. There’s nothing more to say.”
The muscles in his throat worked. “This is important. You’re in danger.”
She could not help darting a look at him then. “What?”
His expression was something she’d never seen in him before, something wild and desper
ate. In danger? Beckett was many things, but he was not a murderer, of that she was dead certain. Someone else had killed Pauline Sanderson.
A killer…the real monster…had never been caught, though no one would ever believe it. The murderer was undoubtedly long gone, had probably left the tiny town of Furnace Falls far behind. There was no criminal on the loose here. Was there?
* * *
Beckett felt Jude’s hard stare as he finished his radio conversation and rejoined them, handing Laney a jar of jam. He squared off with Beckett. The distrust radiated off him in palpable waves. Beckett had learned the hard way that Jude was a cop first and a cousin second. As the evidence had piled up against Beckett after Pauline’s body was found, Jude had put him squarely in the enemy camp.
“You haven’t explained why you’re here,” Jude said.
“I need to talk to my wife.”
He arched an eyebrow. “She doesn’t seem at all eager to talk to you, now that you served her with divorce papers. Classy act to do that to her.”
Beckett would have vented his simmering rage if Laney hadn’t been there. She wrapped her arms around herself and pressed her lips together. She was pale underneath the freckles, perhaps from the shock of seeing him, the unforgiving Death Valley sun, the snake or a combination of all three. He didn’t want to upset her any more. He bit back his ire.
Jude bobbed his chin. “Why don’t you go find a place in town to stay if you must?”
Laney was like a sister to Jude and he understood his cousin’s protectiveness, but Laney was Beckett’s to take care of—for a while longer, anyway. He fisted his hands, teeth grinding together. “This is still my family’s land.”
And legally it was, since they had not yet finished the process of transitioning it to joint property when he was arrested. Nothing had been finished, nothing at all, before Pauline was murdered. He wondered if it ever would be. “I won’t stay long.”
“Better if you didn’t stay at all, but I can’t force you to leave. I’m asking you to think about Laney.”
