Unlocking Fear

by Kennedy Layne

  UNLOCKING FEAR

  Keys to Love, Book One

  Kennedy Layne

  UNLOCKING FEAR

  Copyright © 2017 by Kennedy Layne

  Kindle Edition

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-943420-39-1

  Print ISBN: 978-1-943420-40-7

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Dedication

  Jeffrey—You hold the key to my heart.

  Cole—Your future is bright with many doors to walk through…try them all and enjoy the journeys!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Book

  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

  About Unlocking Secrets

  Books by Kennedy Layne

  About the Author

  A captivating romantic suspense series from USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne where seduction burns but danger is never far behind…

  A chance mishap with a sledgehammer was the sole reason a chilling nightmare was unleashed in Blyth Lake.

  Noah Kendall’s grisly discovery left him in the middle of a murder investigation and a neighbor who knew more than she was willing to say. Reese Woodward had returned to town with dark secrets, and he was determined to unravel them. While evil lurks in the darkness, seduction burns between them…only time was their enemy.

  Will her secrets destroy what they’ve built, or can he earn her trust before the killer strikes again?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Twelve years ago…

  The deepening shadows stretched out across the small cluster of trees, causing the footpath to become somewhat obscured by the dark. The dying leaves that covered the floor of the woods rustled as the cool October breeze turned into a strong gust of wind.

  A storm must be rolling into town.

  Emma didn’t slow down her pace. She was already an hour late for her curfew, but at least this old shortcut would take ten minutes off her trip home. Her parents would probably ground her for at least a week, if not more. She needed to find a better way to sneak back inside the house. The back door squeaked horribly. It could wake the dead.

  What was the odd chance her sister would cover for her?

  Emma grimaced, already knowing the answer to that question. This was all Shae’s fault, anyway. Why did she always get the car, just because she was older? It was so unfair that she didn’t have to share.

  Emma quickened her pace despite the darkness and the chance of tripping over a root. She imagined that she could walk this route with her eyes closed just as easily. She’d come this way a thousand times over. It was used by most of the kids who were still relegated to riding their bikes and walking out to Yoder’s farm to party, especially since most of them lived on the far side of the old woods in town.

  A twig snapped in the distance, bringing her up short. Its piercing crack echoed off the trees. Was someone else walking home?

  “Who’s there?”

  Emma waited for a reply, wincing when her voice was amplified through the small stretch of woods. She tried to peer through the trees, expecting to see Brynn or Julie, but it was too dark to make anything out beyond a few yards.

  The faint and comforting sound of her favorite song drifted from the old farmhouse. She looked over her shoulder, still able to make out the orange sparks rising from the top of the raging bonfire as they reached into the night’s sky. It was almost as if the flames were dancing, reminding her of how Billy held her in his arms earlier as they swayed to the music.

  Emma smiled as she wrapped her arms around her waist in an effort to keep warm. She could still smell the bonfire on her sweater, along with his father’s cologne that Billy had been wearing. Maybe he graduated to buying his own though, choosing from the limited selection at Murphy’s dry goods. Not even the chilly night air could take away her happiness at having secured a chance at a relationship. She’d waited so long for him to notice her.

  Tonight had been as perfect as it could get.

  Now all she had to do was figure out a way to sneak into her house without her parents catching her in the act or that stupid door screeching out into the night. She needed to be able to say yes to Billy if he asked her out for next weekend. And he would, she was sure of it.

  Emma slowly spun around looking for the source of the noise, not seeing anyone or anything. A quick glance up at the sky told her that the clouds were gathering. She hesitated before walking deeper into the woods that would lead her right to the edge of Seventh Street and the town’s cemetery.

  A vision of her standing by her school locker and saying yes to Billy had her continuing forward with a determined stride.

  This annual bonfire wouldn’t be their last, of that she was certain, but it was one she would always remember.

  She’d heard that old Yoder’s farm had been sold, so future get-togethers would most likely be in the clearing on the north side of the woods. She noticed the new owners had even started renovating the farmhouse, but that hadn’t stopped Chad Schaeffer from organizing one last bash out by the farm pond. It was a miracle the sheriff hadn’t cruised by earlier and sent everyone home. He was usually a real stickler when it came to parties involving the local teens.

  No one recognized the name of the new owner. There were no relatives of the Yoders around these parts anymore, so the town council must have decided to auction off the land after clearing it with the courts. She’d meant to ask her dad how someone determined if a piece of property was derelict. She’d heard a teacher talking about it in class. It probably had something to do with property taxes.

  Emma hadn’t wanted to bring up the matter, because then her dad would have figured out that she was part of the gang who hung out on the same property the town council complained about.

  Now that would have earned her a grounding for at least a month or more.

  There was a break in the clouds, allowing for the dirt path in front of her to suddenly became clear. She took another step forward before realizing something was quite wrong, but by then it was far too late.

  Emma walked directly into the arms of her killer.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Present day…

  The blue and white aluminum sign declaring Blyth Lake had a population of two thousand, three hundred, and four citizens had seen better days. The anodized metal was faded from exposure to endless days of sunshine, not to mention the dents on the sides from all the beer cans that had been thrown at it. It didn’t help that the once-white letters had blurred to the point of appearing almost unreadable.

  None of that mattered, though.

  The old town’s welcome post signified home.

  Noah Kendall resisted
the urge to drive through the small town to see what had changed and what still remained the same as it had for his entire life. He’d been born and raised in Blyth Lake, second to the youngest of the five notorious Kendall children. There was something to be said about returning to one’s roots, and the warm memories began to filter back one by one as he noted different landmarks.

  Damn, it was good to be home.

  He rolled the windows down on his late model black F150, allowing the warm summer air to fill the cab with a bouquet of familiar scents. The faint breeze brought with it the light fragrances of honeysuckle and lilacs. The two old oak trees on either side of the upcoming four-way stop had matured over the years, but the vibrant flowers and plants surrounding the thick trunks remained the same as they had always been.

  It was clear to him that Ms. Barmore must still oversee the town’s formal landscaping. She always did have a thing for honeysuckle and lilacs.

  Noah pulled his truck to a stop at the first intersection and rested his fingers on the turn signal, giving it a second thought. The urge to drive straight ahead was there, but he did what was expected of him and flipped up the lever to indicate his left turn.

  Family came first.

  Family was everything.

  His father, Gus Kendall, was without a doubt waiting for him at the family home.

  This homecoming was bittersweet. It would be only the second time Noah returned to Blyth Lake that his mother, Mary Kendall, wouldn’t be standing on the front porch with open arms. The first time Noah had returned to town without his mom greeting him had been three years ago for her funeral. It was then that his brothers and sister decided maybe it was time to come home once their commitments ran their course.

  Noah turned onto First Street and then continued straight until the road unceremoniously turned into a gravel driveway that led toward his dad’s place. The only marker that denoted the property line was the mailbox and the newspaper tube bolted to the pole underneath.

  Gus had adamantly refused to sell the twenty acres of land after his wife died. He claimed that wasn’t what she would have wanted. He was right, but that didn’t mean his children wouldn’t worry about him living a mile outside of town.

  All of that would change now that they were all returning to their home of record.

  Home of record was a military term; one of the first that a recruit learned when he or she joined the service. Anyone who enlisted in any of the services had to go to a city upstate where they had a place called MEPS. The Military Entrance and Processing Station (MEPS) was where one got all the paperwork done and, of course, the physical examination.

  Each of his siblings would all be returning at staggered times, but that conclusion of their combined exodus would be reached within a year’s time. Continuing the family legacy of serving their country had been important to all of them and instilled a sense of what was important in this life—God, family, country, and service.

  The song on the radio cut off as the Bluetooth system was activated by his phone. He pressed the button on his steering wheel to accept the call, surprised at the name displayed on the screen.

  “Mitch, is everything okay?” Noah asked as he slowed the truck down to compensate for the loose gravel drive. Why was his brother calling? Mitch was the oldest sibling of the Kendall clan. He also didn’t let any of them forget that little known fact, either. “Aren’t you still in Afghanistan?”

  “I’m actually in CONUS as of zero four hundred this morning. I know it’s the big day for you, so I was just checking in. How does it feel to be a lowlife civilian puke again?”

  “It’s too early to tell.” Noah didn’t believe for a second that Mitch was calling to check in. It wasn’t unheard of for all his brothers to go months on end without touching base with one another. Their sister, Gwen, was a little different. She made it a point to reach out to them at least once a month, if not once a week. “I’m pulling up the drive now. Is there something I should know? Dad isn’t the type to organize a lame ass party, so what am I missing?”

  “You always were the suspicious one.” Someone yelled Mitch’s name in the background, so it didn’t surprise Noah when his oldest brother took the out. “I’ve got to run, but tell Dad I’ll call him later this week to see if you are assimilating back into the local tribe. I still need to schedule my TAP class, but I’m hoping to be home by the holidays with all my accumulated terminal leave.”

  “Have fun with that shit,” Noah muttered, having already taken the class for the transition assistance program. The class was designed to help service members better acclimate to civilian life. “Word of advice, don’t piss off the instructors. They’re all retired Sergeant Majors. They’ve got some good gouge. They haven’t forgotten where they came from.”

  It wasn’t hard to miss his brother’s laugh before the line disconnected. Noah had a bad rap for pissing off his instructors, and it was truly undeserved. It wasn’t his fault that his fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Cutler, sat in gum. He had fully intended to throw it away in the garbage can after recess was over.

  His mother’s favorite pine trees came into view, bringing a smile to his face. The full-bodied pines were planted on both sides of the gravel lane. She always said they reminded her of the holidays. It wasn’t long before a two-story yellow house came into view with a wrap-around porch.

  His dad had maintained the upkeep on the property pretty well, which couldn’t have been easy at his age. The large pole barn to the right was where Gus had his workshop. His handmade furniture was well-prized throughout the area. The small business had been lucrative enough to keep his five children in clothes, put food on the table, and have a little left over for life’s amenities.

  Noah pulled his truck onto the concrete slab to the right of the house, right next to the old basketball court. A glance out the passenger side window showed the man himself.

  Gus Kendall was larger than life, as always.

  No one would have ever been able to tell that he was sixty-three years of age except the family doctor. He had developed heart problems in his early forties and he’d had a heart attack at the age of fifty-six. That only added on to the numerous reasons why it was time for the family to come together and help shoulder the load.

  Gus allowed the screen door to close slowly behind him as he walked to the top of the three wooden steps that matched the color of the house. It wasn’t lost on Noah that Gus had taken up his wife’s post without her favorite dishtowel in hand. It was bittersweet, but this was the best homecoming he could have asked for.

  “Welcome home, son.”

  Noah met his dad at the bottom of the steps. There was nothing sweeter than to hear those three words. It suddenly became hard to swallow, so he remained silent and held out his hand. His father took it and then pulled him close. They held each other a few seconds longer than they usually did, but Noah didn’t doubt they were each thinking of the same woman.

  “It’s good to be home, Dad,” Noah replied once he found his voice. He pulled away, surprised when his dad clapped him on the back and maintained his hold as they walked up the stairs. The workshop was where he was always most comfortable. “Don’t tell me you made lunch.”

  “Why make lunch when Annie’s Diner is a mile down the road? Her meatloaf always did rival your mother’s, God rest her soul.”

  Noah walked in the house behind his dad, noticing that not a picture or piece of furniture was out of place. Nothing had changed since Mary Kendall had been laid to rest. The wall leading up the staircase was lined with family photographs, her lace doily was still draped over the dining room table, the china cabinet still held her grandmother’s tableware, and the interior still held a scent of freshly picked lilacs filling the vase on the dining room table.

  His mother’s presence hung in the air, and it was a welcoming embrace.

  “Mom always did say you had a crush on old Ms. Osburn,” Noah laughed, knowing full well his dad never had a stray thought in his head when it came to
his wife. Besides, Ms. Osburn had to be in her eighties by now. “You mentioned in our last phone conversation that she’d retired. Who is running the diner nowadays?”

  Noah followed his dad through the long foyer that hosted an entryway table his dad had made in the workshop out back a decade or two ago. Pretty much the entire house was filled with furniture made by his father. The kitchen table was more solid than any other table anyone could find in any furniture store. It had survived five children for thirty-four years.

  He recounted, just to be sure he was right. Yes, Mitch was thirty-four years old and Lance was the youngest at twenty-nine. Noah shook his head in astonishment as to the strength his mother had to have in birthing five children in five years.

  “Annie’s daughter, Cassie, is currently running the diner. And let me tell you, she learned right quick that her fancy city dishes weren’t going to cut it here in Blyth Lake,” Gus grumbled as he poured two cups of coffee in the same mugs that had been in the cupboard since Noah was a little boy. “Meat and potatoes have always been the staple of a healthy living here in the Midwest. Speaking of which, I bought us some ribeye steaks to grill out tonight with a couple of spuds. I’ve got to say, it’ll be nice having all you kids home.”

  “That reminds me. Mitch called.” Noah looked out the kitchen window, catching sight of the tire swing still attached to the large maple tree out back. He’d fallen off it many times, but only once had he required stitches after ramming it into the tree. That was all because of a dare Mitch had made that Noah couldn’t get it to spin the fastest. “He’s stateside and thinking he should be home for the holidays.”

  “That’s better than he first thought. Lance is thinking he’ll be home next month, and then Gwen the month after.”

  Gus brought both mugs over to the kitchen table before pulling out a chair. He motioned for Noah to do the same, but he shook his head at the offer. He needed to stretch his legs after such a long drive.