Deathtoll (Broslin Creek Book 8)
Page 1
Table of Contents
DEATHTOLL
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
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
The Broslin Creek Series, a reader favorite, began with the story of Kate and Murph (an eye-witness running from a deadly assassin and the soldier who steps between her and a violent death). DEATHTOLL, the last book, features the same couple. Kate and Murph are back in Broslin Creek, thinking they're safe, their worst enemy dead. But soon people around Kate begin to die under suspicious circumstances, and she and Murph must face the terrible realization that Asael followed them home, and not only are their lives in danger, but also the lives of the townspeople who took Kate in years ago.
DEDICATION
My sincere gratitude to Sarah, Diane, Linda, and Toni for all of their brilliant help. And many thanks to my wonderful reader friends in the Dana Marton Book Club on Facebook. I don’t know what I would do without you.
DEATHTOLL
by Dana Marton
DEATHTOLL - Copyright © 2021 by Dana Marton.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author. http://www.danamarton.com
First Edition: 2021
ISBN-13: 9781940627441
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Kate
Don’t ever dance like nobody’s watching.
Because somebody will be watching. And they’ll be smirking. And then you’ll have to choose between dying of embarrassment or murdering them. And what kind of choices are those? Damn bad.
Kate Bridges was browsing the Broslin Farm Market, scrutinizing cookie labels and wiggling to the 90s Hits soundtrack from the loudspeakers, when she looked up and saw Murph Dolan coming toward her.
Because life likes to ambush the shit out of you, just when you least expect it. She wasn’t supposed to run into him for another hour yet, at Hope Hill, at work.
“Nice moves.” His raspy voice went straight to her heart.
Every freaking time.
So did his eyes—the color of the finest dark chocolate—as they filled with feral hunger for a second before he shuttered his gaze. Then there were his muscles, flexing as he pushed his cart. Muscles she’d licked…
Kate’s visceral reaction to him was a primal response to the man who’d kept her safe and made her body melt in bed. And in any number of other places: on the kitchen table, against the wall, backseat of the car, shower, bathtub, etc., etc.
Don’t think about Murph naked!
Easier said than done when he was standing this close with that former soldier, ex-cop, still-in-excellent-shape body. He probably worked out just to torture her.
He’d been the last man she’d seen naked. And it’d been months ago, and—
“Here is a universal truth of life.” She slammed the lid on thinking how much she missed…things she wasn’t going to admit missing.
She aimed for an unfailingly neutral tone. “The second you find a product you like, stores will let you have it maybe twice before it’s discontinued. They’ll dangle it in front of your nose just enough so you fall in love and can really mourn the loss.”
Should not have said “fall in love.”
She winced.
Please respond with something light, then move along. Don’t bring up anything that’ll make my heart bleed in aisle three, dammit.
Disappointment flashed in his eyes, as if he was thinking Is grocery store stock really what you want to talk about? But then he played along. “So, you know you’re gluten sensitive for sure?”
The acute sense of relief settled over Kate like her weighted blanket, which she had to use since she’d left Murph, so she could get at least some sleep without him.
To give her eyes something to do other than mournfully stare at him, she checked the list of ingredients on another box of cookies. “I don’t know what else to try. I’ve already given up dairy.”
“You could see a doctor.”
“It’s not that bad. My stomach is just off.” She slid the box back on the shelf and picked another one, all-natural, organic, almond flour cookies that cost a fortune. Everything in the special-diet aisle did.
“I wouldn’t recommend dietary restrictions for anyone.” She used the box to gesture at the $7.99 price tag on the shelf. “Unless they win the lottery first.”
Instead of agreeing with her on that, Murph slid his gaze to her torso. Lingered. “You lost a lot of weight.”
“I’m starting to gain it back.” She dropped the cookies into her cart, appreciating that at least they smelled like real vanilla, then pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time. “I need to go. I don’t want to be late for work.”
“Why are you grocery shopping in the morning?”
“Picking up a birthday treat for a patient. Might as well grab a few other things.”
“You have your car back from the shop?”
“Tomorrow. Emma is driving me. She flew up from LA.”
His eyebrows twitched as his eyes met hers again. “When?”
“Day before yesterday.”
His mouth—that had done unspeakable things to the most sensitive parts of her body—tightened. “Were you going to tell me?”
Murph had always treated her family as his own. He’d gone to LA with Kate every time she visited. He and Emma had hit it off from their first meeting. Of course, he would want to see Emma. But just then, inviting Murph over was beyond Kate. She was still working up to it.
Silent reproach thickened the air between them for a second, then two.
And then, his expression closed, Murph moved past Kate. “Tell your sister I said hi.”
She fought the urge to follow him as the tide followed the moon. Habit. They used to shop together, going down the aisles side by side. They used to do everything together.
Kate rocked on the balls of her feet. “See you at the office!”
He looked back. She should just have kept her mouth shut and let him go. She clenched her jaw.
Don’t say anything. Please.
Because he knew her, he heard her silent plea. He simply nodded at her before he walked away.
And then she could finally breathe. Sweet chocolate-covered cherries.
She hurried in the opposite direction, toward Emma, who just turned the corner with a bag of carrots and avocadoes for her breakfast smoothies.
Her sister craned her neck. “Was that Murph?”
A twenty-something guy trailed behind her like a puppy. An almost comical look of disappointment crossed the guy’s face when he realized Emma was with Kate. He’d probably been hoping to chat her up.
He moved on with a barely stifled, mournful sigh.
Kate sympathized. No love to be found in aisle three today, buddy.
Emma noticed none of that. She’d always been oblivious to the effect her long legs, enviable raven hair, and overall LA glamour had on men. She was…shiny. No, radiant was a better word. Then again, she did work out like a professional and took her smoothie boosters as seriously as a heart attack, which, obviously, she was never going to have.
“Is there anything more annoying than ridiculously beautiful women who don’t realize they’re beautiful?” Kate punctuated the question with a long-suffering sigh.
Emma looked around. “What? Why? I’m not beautiful.”
Kate sent a pointed glance toward the admirer who just then walked into a shelf because he was still looking back.
“Is there anything more annoying than ridiculously beautiful women who don’t realize they’re beautiful and insist that they aren’t?” Kate amended. “And they’re good at math? You’re my little sister and I love you, but if you discover a sudden special talent for art or music, I’m going to have to let you go.”
Emma rolled her eyes. And, really, she was so good at it, it could almost be considered an art form. “Mind if I go and say hi to Murph?”
Now?
“Would you mind, not to?” Kate felt like an idiot for asking, but she did it for self-preservation. “Not right now? I’m just having a weird morning.” A weird couple of days. “The lack of sleep is starting to get to me. I feel like…” She let out a frustrated groan.
“Like?” Emma stepped aside so they could move on to the next aisle.
“I don’t know. This stupid insomnia is beginning to affect my mental state. I keep thinking I’m being watched. You know that weird feeling at the back of your neck?” Kate flashed an I’m-stupid-right smile. “I’ve spent so many years running and hiding. I have trouble fully settling into safe and normal.”
Emma watched her with concern. “Being vigilant all the time, living your life on guard, is not a good way to live. You have to learn to relax.”
“I’m not sure if I know how.”
“It’s literally your job. You make people relax for a living.”
“And that’s the irony of it.” Kate forced a smile and stopped in front of the shelf that held an overwhelming variety of tea. She picked the nearest box and dropped it into her cart, then headed to the checkout. “Let’s get out of here.”
Emma kept up. “So, things are pretty bad between you and Murph?”
“No.” He wasn’t in any of the cashier lines, thank God. “Honestly, like I said, having an off morning.” Kate pressed a hand to her stomach, then dropped it. Working with Murph was not giving her an ulcer. And if it was, then there was her answer.
“Fine,” Emma said.
The hurt tone sliced through Kate. “Listen—”
“I guess we’re not that close anymore, right? You no longer tell me things. I guess I just need to be grateful that you finally chose to tell us that you weren’t dead.”
“We’ve talked about this. I couldn’t tell you any sooner.” Kate reached for Emma’s hand, but her fingertips brushed air as Emma pulled away. “I begged them to let me contact you and Mom and Dad.”
Emma fixed her gaze on the shopping cart’s wheels as they moved forward with the line, checkout scanners beeping around them. “I grieved you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“For four and a half years, I thought you were dead,” Emma said under her breath, low enough so the people around them wouldn’t hear. “Mom and Dad thought you were dead.”
God, were they going to have this conversation in the checkout line? Apparently. Okay. Fine. It had been brewing for a while. They’d spent way too much time tiptoeing around the topic since Kate had come back. They couldn’t keep that up forever.
“Because I wanted you safe,” she whispered.
“Because you didn’t trust us to keep your secret.”
“It wasn’t up to me.”
“The FBI couldn’t have stopped you from sending a postcard!”
This last sentence was hissed, fractionally louder than the rest, loud enough so the woman in front of them in line—a frazzled mom with two toddlers who were trying to climb her legs—glanced back. So did the cashier guy.
When Kate refused to meet their eyes, eventually they returned to their own business again. The woman unloaded her cart, promising the kids candy as soon as they hit the car. The cashier dragged each item over the scanner.
Emma filled her lungs and opened her mouth, and Kate had to cut her off, say something, anything, because their current argument was so not grocery store checkout line material.
“Murph proposed.”
A whiplash double take. “When?” Emma’s eyelashes twitched she stared so hard. “What did you say?”
“Three months ago. I had a panic attack.”
“Oh my God. You said no?”
“I ran off to my office to hyperventilate.”
“What did Murph say to that?”
“Nothing. I asked him to give me some time and space. He’s respecting my wishes.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Emma shook her head.
Probably not the best time to mention that Murph had proposed before, and Kate had said yes, and then she’d reneged, because she didn’t want to get married in witness protection, with none of their family there.
They moved forward another few steps in line.
She tried for a lighter tone with “How long are you planning on being mad at me? Just so I know how to plan?”
They’d had fights before, shouting matches even, and then they would make up, be best friends again.
This time, Emma’s face remained humorless. “He proposed three months ago, and you didn’t say a word all those times we talked on the phone. I guess while you were dead, you forgot that we were sisters.”
“I’m sorry.” Kate reached the conveyor belt and began unloading their cart. “I know you must have felt abandoned when I…left,” she ended up saying instead of faked my death.
“You’re the one with abandonment issues.” Emma’s response was quick with impatience. “I don’t even remember anything before Mom and Dad.”
Kate had been in middle school by the time they’d been adopted. She’d gone through several foster parent transfers. Emma had been a toddler. She’d been spared some of the trauma, at least, and Kate was glad for that.
The cashier, a previously bored-looking high school kid, rung up their purchases, openly listening. Openly checking out Emma too. Age gap or no, Emma looked like a comic book heroine with all that hair, piercing dark eyes, her body trim in the right places, curvy in others. She wore high boots, chunky heels, with her short skirt. Her current, stormy I-don’t-take-shit-from-no-one expression made her into a Comic-Con Kick-Ass Babe, and apparently teen boy catnip.
“That’s a lot of cookies,” she told Kate, in a tone that made it clear the conversation was not over.
“Betty is coming over tonight for a cup of tea.”
“Your neighbor?”
“She had me over a bunch of times when I was moving and didn’t have the kitchen fully set up yet. My turn. She’s sweet. I get her prescriptions filled, she signs for my deliveries, if I’m not home. We’re both women living alone. We watch out for each other.”
Resentment tightened Emma’s eyes again.
Kate felt like a ten-thousand-pound elephant tiptoeing through a minefield. “What?”
“You’re making friends here,” Emma said with as much disgust as if Kate were kicking puppies.
“Give me a break. I have a long list of things I feel guilty about, but I refuse to feel guilty about putting down some roots for the first time in my
life. I live here. I work here. I bought a house here. Broslin is my home now.”
“Thousands of miles from your family.” Emma’s gaze hardened another notch. “I could see it when you were with Murph. You deserve love. I was happy for you. He’s a great guy. But you aren’t even with him anymore. Why can’t you come back to LA?”
Kate paid the openly listening cashier. “I have responsibilities here. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or care about you, or miss you like crazy.”
Emma flashed a cold look before she turned away to finish loading their bags into the cart.
“I’m so glad you came up to see me,” Kate said to start their disastrous conversation over. “I don’t want to fight the whole time you’re here.”
Emma marched forward, the lovelorn checkout boy casting a heartbroken look after her. “It hurts when you don’t tell me things,” she said when Kate caught up with her. “I don’t like being treated like a stranger. We used to share everything.”
“I didn’t tell you about Murph because I feel like I’ve made a mess of things.” The glass doors slid aside, and they walked out into the crisp fall air. “I’m still so unsure about so many things.”
“Murph is in love with you. How obvious can a guy be?”
Kate stopped short to let a blue minivan go by. “I’m thinking about going back to therapy.”
“You should.”
“It’s not all in my head. We do have real issues.”
They loaded the groceries into Emma’s white Honda Civic, an airport rental.
“Like what?”
Kate didn’t respond until they were in the car, Emma driving.
“I was running for my life when we met, hiding in a stranger’s house. Murph had no idea his brother rented out the place behind his back while he was overseas with the Reserves.”
“Imagine that. Siblings keeping secrets from each other,” Emma said in a loaded tone, then added, “When Murph came home, he took it all in stride because he’s a good guy. He let you stay, and he protected you. He freaking shot the idiot who was after you. Here is a man who killed for you. He is movie hero material. How are you having doubts about him? You lived like an engaged couple for three years in Ohio, in witness protection.”