High-Stakes Inheritance

by Susan Sleeman

  “I’m sorry about the barn, okay?” the little girl said. “I didn’t do anything bad. I didn’t start the fire. I was just reading in there.”

  “I don’t think the fire was your fault, Jessie,” Mia told her. “It must have been an accident. Maybe electrical.”

  “Uh-uh. A man started it.”

  “What?”

  The little girl trembled. “A really big man drove a truck into the barn. He got out and poured something stinky on the hay. Then he threw matches on it. He said, ‘This ought to scare her.’ Then he laughed and left. Do you think he meant me? To scare me?”

  He didn’t mean Jessie. He meant Mia. This was what the letter had warned her about. But who was this man?

  “Jessie,” Ryan called from the open doors. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

  “Uncle Ryan.” Jessie’s voice held relief. She charged into his arms.

  Mia sat up, and her eyes connected with Ryan’s troubled gaze. He pulled Jessie tighter and stared at Mia with the implication of Jessie’s words stamped on his face.

  The fire was no accident.

  SUSAN SLEEMAN

  grew up in a small Wisconsin town where she spent her summers reading Nancy Drew and developing a love of mystery and suspense books. Today she channels this enthusiasm into hosting the popular Internet Web site TheSuspenseZone.com and writing romantic suspense and mystery novels.

  Much to her husband’s chagrin, Susan loves to look at everyday situations and turn them into murder and mayhem scenarios for future novels. If you’ve met Susan, she has probably figured out a plausible way to kill you and get away with it.

  Susan currently lives in Florida, but has had the pleasure of living in nine states. Her husband is a church music director and they have two beautiful daughters, a very special son-in-law and an adorable grandson. To learn more about Susan, please visit SusanSleeman.com.

  HIGH-STAKES INHERITANCE

  Susan Sleeman

  Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

  —Proverbs 3:5

  For my husband, Mark, who always believes in and encourages me to write, for Emma whose grasp of proper grammar has helped me more times than I can count, and for Erin, whose graphic design skills are priceless.

  Acknowledgments

  This book couldn’t have been written without the help of others.

  Thank you to fellow writers and all-around terrific friends, Sandra Robbins, Janelle Mowery, Elizabeth Ludwig and Marcia Gruver for sharing their writing expertise, thoughtful critiques and wise advice.

  To Tina James, editor extraordinaire, thank you for selecting this manuscript and giving me a chance to tell this story. I am thrilled to be working with and learning from you.

  For technical details, I give credit to the professionals who shared their time, patiently answering all my questions. Any errors in or liberties taken with the details are solely my doing.

  Thank you to Taylor Woods, Program Supervisor/Recruiter for SUWS of the Carolinas, for sharing his expertise in wilderness counseling programs.

  To Lieutenant Shaun McNally, Richlandtown Fire Co. #1, who gave of his time to help me understand the complexity of fighting fires, I say a special thanks.

  And most importantly, thank You, God, for my faith and for putting seemingly insurmountable challenges in my life to allow me to know without a doubt who is in charge of my life.

  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

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LETTER TO READER

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  ONE

  Pinetree will never be yours. Leave Logan Lake now or you will pay.

  Mia Blackburn stared at the cutout magazine letters glued to stark white paper.

  Was this some kind of a joke? Did someone really plan to hurt her for honoring her late uncle’s wishes? To meet the terms of his will, she had agreed to live at Pinetree for the next year in order to inherit the resort. Yet nothing about the idyllic Oregon setting and worn cabins would garner this kind of threat.

  With trembling hands, she flipped the envelope and searched for clues. The hate mail held a postmark from three days ago right here in the Logan Lake Post Office.

  She rubbed a finger over the neat rows of shiny magazine letters. Anger seemed to leap from the page.

  Her mouth went dry, and her throat tightened, nearly cutting off her air.

  Only one person harbored such bitter feelings for her. Her father. And knowing him, he’d lurk in the shadows to see her reaction to his threat.

  The space seemed to darken with her thoughts.

  Was he here, in the room watching her? Or would he be outside on Main Street, sitting in his Cadillac, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he did whenever he grew impatient?

  The jarring clang of the front door bells ended her thoughts. She snapped her head up to see who entered.

  Not her father, but just as bad. Maybe worse.

  “Ryan.” Her ex-boyfriend’s name whispered out like a desperate plea for help as he strolled lazily into the space.

  His warm expression and greetings spoke to his love of this small town and its people. He’d changed little since she’d last seen him at high school graduation. He was dressed in worn jeans, rugged boots and an army-green T-shirt that confirmed he hadn’t quit working out. Curly russet hair had been cut short emphasizing his skin bronzed from the summer.

  As if feeling her gaze, he turned in her direction. Recognition widened his piercing blue eyes. “Mia, is that you?” he called out with genuine fondness as if they’d parted best friends. He headed her way, giving her a quick once-over on the way. When his eyes returned to her face, appreciation radiated from his expression much like it had when they dated in high school.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you with the new look.” He reached out to lift a strand of her shoulder-length hair she’d straightened and dyed.

  His touch shot a frisson of alarm through her far greater than the letter had. She searched for a reply, but gaped instead. He directed a counseling program that leased cabins at Pinetree in the off-season so she’d expected them to cross paths. However, she didn’t count on freezing in place when she saw him again.

  “I remember that look.” His trademark crooked grin lit his face. “Got it every time I messed up.”

  This was too much. He was here…in front of her. The guy who’d hurt her like every man in her life except Uncle Wally. And she wasn’t ready with the quick, witty comebacks she’d often visualized in her mind.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” Fine? She wasn’t fine. How was she going to get out of this situation?

  She took a step back and focused on the waffle pattern in his T-shirt. This wasn’t any better than peering into his eyes. The material stretched taut across his chest. A chest where she’d rested and received comfort after battles with her father.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Wally,” he said, filling the awkward space and bringing her gaze to his face. “I remember as a kid how I’d count down the days until he left Atlanta and came up here for the summe
r.” A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “All the kids around here loved his camp. Takes a special person to give so much time and money to help underprivileged kids like he did. I’m gonna miss him.”

  “Me, too,” she managed.

  Who was this woman taking over her body? Since their tumultuous breakup, she’d often visualized the strong woman she’d become, standing up to Ryan and releasing pent-up anger from the wounds he’d inflicted. Never did she see herself shying away like a terrified mouse.

  So what? Even if she pulled herself together, this wasn’t the time or place to get into their botched romance. Small towns had big ears and the last thing she needed was gossip about her served as the entrée on dinner tables tonight. She’d had enough of that in high school when she’d sparked the local gossip by rebelling against her father’s rigid control, skipping school and partying all hours of the night.

  Her best option was to cut this short. “If you’ll excuse me, I really need to get out to Pinetree and unpack.”

  In search of car keys, she used her hip to shift her leather purse closer as she transferred the threatening letter to the other hand already bulging with envelopes. Shaking fingers fumbled and upset the pile, sending it crashing to the floor.

  “Let me help.” He dropped down and reached for the alarming letter.

  No. He didn’t need to see the warning.

  She lunged toward the page, but his hand whispered softly over hers and snatched up the paper. While he scanned the message, she slid the avalanche of envelopes into a stack.

  “What’s this?” His head lifted and deep crevices of concern burrowed into his face. “You can’t seriously be thinking about going out there after receiving such a threat? We have to report this to the police, and you need to stay somewhere safe until they figure out who sent the letter.”

  How dare he express concern for her after the trauma he’d caused in her life!

  She snatched the page from his hands. “Don’t worry. Someone is just playing a practical joke.”

  Ignoring his confused expression, she bolted past him and into the crisp October morning. She didn’t need Ryan worrying about or trying to take care of her. She’d been self-sufficient for years, and she didn’t need a man—especially not this man—telling her what to do. She’d be fine.

  “Mia, wait,” he called after her. “You could be in danger.”

  Danger, ha! Talking to him was more dangerous than a vague warning. He’d hurt her once. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to do it again.

  Ryan watched as Mia charged away. After her reaction, his first instinct was to run in the other direction. Why bring up their past? Why not let things lie as they had for the last ten years?

  Because her eyes seared him, that’s why. Not with the guilt he deserved but with a vulnerability that tugged at his need to help a woman in distress. Now she was charging away from him into danger. He couldn’t let that happen.

  He rushed after the click-clack of the skyscraper shoes she wore echoing down the street and into the sweet, tantalizing fragrance lingering behind.

  Had his tomboy taken to wearing perfume?

  She’d definitely given up the ratty jeans and slogan-boasting T-shirts she used to favor. Today, tailored blue jeans and a leather blazer emphasized her long, lanky body. Perfect on the current Mia who’d traded her mass of red curls for a sleek style that gleamed in the brilliant sunlight. Her hands shook as she inserted a key into the door of a sweet, red Mustang, but she still managed to climb into the car in record speed.

  A car that would take her straight to Pinetree. She may not want anything to do with him, but he wouldn’t let her race into danger just to spite him. He breathed deep to control rising emotions and stopped next to the car. She ignored him and lowered the convertible roof.

  When the top cleared, he planted his hands on the door frame. “I get that you’re still mad at me, Mia, but don’t do something foolish just to get away from me.”

  She sat, rigid and unresponsive.

  He leaned into her space. “Just give me a minute and then if you still want to go, I’ll back off.”

  Her head slowly rose, and a shimmering strand of hair blew into her face. It would take some time for him to get used to her new look. Not that he didn’t like it. Layered hair curved softly around her face, giving her a sophisticated appearance that was all too appealing.

  He reached up to tuck the stray strand behind her ear, but she beat him to it and fixed tired eyes on his face.

  “You have exactly one minute.” She tapped her jeweled watch with a brightly painted nail.

  The anguish in her gaze almost stopped his words. Almost. But he had to keep her safe. “It’s crazy to go to Pinetree, sw—, Mia.” She didn’t seem to notice his near use of sweetheart, or maybe she didn’t remember or even care that he’d always called her that in high school. “You never know what the sender of this letter intends to do.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s from my father. You know how melodramatic he can get. If I leave town during the year, Pinetree defaults to David. So—”

  “Wait. David gets Pinetree if you leave?” Ryan’s tone pierced through the air. “It’s got to be worth a bundle for the lakefront location. Seems like David is the logical person to want you to leave.”

  “I didn’t say I was certain about my father. David is a possibility, but I doubt it.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment as if she was humoring him. “David’s firm handles Pinetree’s finances so I’ve talked to him about the transition a couple of times in the last week. He said even though he was the older sibling, I deserved Pinetree because I was so much closer to Uncle Wally.”

  “How can you be sure he meant what he said? Maybe he was covering up his true feelings.”

  “His tone was sincere. Plus, he’s never done anything in the past to hurt me, but Dad…” She released another sigh. “He’s a different story. He always thought David was more deserving of everything, so why not this?” Her words were strong, but her voice trembled at the mention of her father and brother.

  Ryan wanted to stroke her hair in comfort as he used to do after one of her father’s many rampages, but he had no right. He’d seen to that.

  He fisted his hands and searched for the words that would keep her away from Pinetree. But what could he say to make her see the danger she could be in?

  Perhaps he had to paint a dire picture. “You may be right about the letter coming from your dad, but are you willing to risk your life on it?”

  She recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “Your minute is up.”

  She fired up the car, and he reluctantly stepped back. He didn’t know why she’d reacted so strongly but he did know he’d failed her again. Was he destined to fail her at every turn? He shook his head and watched her back out of the space.

  At least this time he had God to turn to. He never disappointed anyone.

  Ryan focused on the impressive stand of Douglas firs in the distance.

  Lord, please keep Mia safe. And if it is your will, let her see my sincere desire to apologize for how I hurt her and help her to forgive me for what I did.

  At the screech of tires, his head snapped back, and he watched the car shoot down the street. Despite the ache her resentment left behind, the familiar sight brought a brief smile. Mia might dress all prissy and girly now, but she remembered how to drive like a guy.

  Oh, yeah, she’d always been a little spitfire. Rebelling against her father. Getting into trouble left and right. Calming down some the year they were together. Taking up again when they split up to show everyone she didn’t need him.

  And she didn’t need him. Not now, anyway. He’d hurt her by how he’d handled the breakup, that was for sure, and he wanted to fix it. Now more than ever. Seeing her dredged up the horrible day they’d parted, and he needed to explain why he had to end things as he had. To seek her forgiveness so he could put this to rest.

  Instincts and the desire to do the right thin
g with Mia told him to jump in his truck and follow her to Pinetree, but the threatening message urged him to go see Russ, his brother and chief of police. He could talk with Mia later, but not if the person behind the letter made good on his threat and harmed her in the process.

  Leave Logan Lake now or you will pay…

  The barn, dry from a typical rainless summer, flared in oranges and reds as if a meteor had streaked from the sky and plunged into the building.

  Had he done this? Had he really made good on the threat?

  Dense smoke clung to Pinetree’s sign and surrounding treetops like cotton candy on a stick. The air was laden with fumes, not the sort of pleasant scents drifting from a campfire, but serious gusts of blackness settling into the open car and irritating her breathing.

  Heart beating erratically, Mia remembered the advice of the 911 operator she’d just called. She should move to a safe location and wait for the fire department to arrive. But what if Uncle Wally still kept horses in the barn? If they were trapped she couldn’t sit here and listen to them cry out. She had to try to rescue them. She kicked off her heels and scrambled from the car.

  Listening for cries of distress, she ran the length of the barn and circled the backside. Embers shot into the air. Explosions—bullet-like pings—struck the walls. The heat and caustic air seared her lungs. Howling screams from the consuming fire eased and the heat receded a bit, allowing her to inch closer to the acrid smoke seeping through cracks in the walls.