Lone Ranger
Page 1
Table of Contents
Synopsis
What Reviewers Say About VK Powell’s Work
By the Author
Acknowledgments
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
About the Author
Books Available from Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Freelance reporter Emma Ferguson’s assignment to write about a missing member of a local furniture royalty family turns into a murder when she talks to the only survivor of the founding family. While she tries to mine literary gold from the crumbs of a decades-old mystery, commitment-phobic Carter West seems more interested in maintaining the status quo, another puzzle Emma is eager to unravel.
Park ranger Carter West has been dedicated to her family and their close-knit community all her life, so when Emma Ferguson starts poking around in the past, Carter does whatever is necessary to maintain the life they’ve established—including keeping deadly secrets.
What Reviewers Say About VK Powell’s Work
Side Effects
“[A] touching contemporary tale of two wounded souls hoping to find lasting love and redemption together. …Powell ably plots a plausible and suspenseful story, leading readers to fall in love with the characters she’s created.”—Publishers Weekly
To Protect and Serve
“If you like cop novels, or even television cop shows with women as full partners with male officers…this is the book for you. It’s got drama, excitement, conflict, and even some fairly hot lesbian sex. The writer is a retired cop, so she really writes from a place of authenticity. As a result, you have a realistic quality to the writing that puts me in mind of early Joseph Wambaugh.”—Teresa DeCrescenzo, Lesbian News
“To Protect and Serve drew me in from the very first page with characters that captivated in their complexity. Powell writes with authority using the lingo and capturing the thoughts of the law enforcers who make the ultimate sacrifice in the fight against crime. What’s more impressive is the command this debut author has of portraying a full gamut of emotion, from angst to elation, through dialogue and narrative. The images are vivid, the action is believable, and the police procedurals are authentic…VK Powell had me invested in the story of these women, heart, mind, body and soul. Along with danger and tension, Powell’s well-developed erotic scenes sizzle and sate.”—Story Circle Book Reviews
Suspect Passions
“From the first chapter of Suspect Passions Powell builds erotic scenes which sear the page. She definitely takes her readers for a walk on the wild side! Her characters, however, are also women we care about. They are bright, witty, and strong. The combination of great sex and great characters make Suspect Passions a must read.”—Just About Write
Fever
“VK Powell has given her fans an exciting read. The plot of Fever is filled with twists, turns, and ‘seat of your pants’ danger…Fever gives readers both great characters and erotic scenes along with insight into life in the African bush.”—Just About Write
Justifiable Risk
“This story takes some unusual twists and at one point, I was convinced that I knew ‘who did it’ only to find out that I was wrong. VK Powell knows crime drama, she kept me guessing until the end, and I was not disappointed at the outcome. And that’s not to slight VK Powell’s knack for romance. …Readers who appreciate mysteries with a touch of drama and intense erotic moments will enjoy Justifiable Risk.”—Queer Magazine
Exit Wounds
“Powell’s prose is no-nonsense and all business. It gets in and gets the job done, a few well-placed phrases sparkling in your memory and some trenchant observations about life in general and a cop’s life in particular sticking to your psyche long after they’ve gone. After five books, Powell knows what her audience wants, and she delivers those goods with solid assurance. But be careful you don’t get hooked. You only get six hits, then the supply’s gone, and you’ll be jonesin’ for the next installment. It never pays to be at the mercy of a cop.”—Out in Print
“Fascinating and complicated characters materialize, morph, and sometimes disappear testing the passionate yet nascent love of the book’s focal pair. I was so totally glued to and amazed by the intricate layers that continued to materialize like an active volcano…dangerous and deadly until the last mystery is revealed. This book goes into my super special category. Please don’t miss it.”—Rainbow Book Reviews
About Face
“Powell excels at depicting complex, emotionally vulnerable characters who connect in a believable fashion and enjoy some genuinely hot erotic moments.”—Publishers Weekly
Lone Ranger
Brought to you by
eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Lone Ranger
© 2016 By VK Powell. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-768-2
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: November 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)
By the Author
To Protect and Serve
Suspect Passions
Fever
Justifiable Risk
Haunting Whispers
Exit Wounds
About Face
Side Effects
Deception
Lone Ranger
Acknowledgments
I’ve been blessed to pursue two careers that brought me great satisfaction. The first allowed me to help people and promote advancement for women in a profession that often overlooked them. In the second, I parlay that career into stories of survival, the struggle to balance love and livelihood, and the fight between good and evil. To Len Barot and all the wonderful folks at Bold Strokes Books—thank you for giving me the chance to tell my stories.
My deepest gratitude and admiration to Dr. Shelley Thrasher for your guidance, suggestions, and kindness. You always take time to talk me off the ledges in my mind, even when you’re up to your neck in projects. Working with you is a learning experience and a pleasure. I’m so proud of our collaborations and of your success as a Bold Strokes author.
For BSB sister author, D. Jackson Leigh, and friends, Jenny Harmon and Mary Margret Daughtridge—thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to provide priceless feedback. This book is so much better for your efforts. I am truly grateful.
&
nbsp; To all the readers who support and encourage my writing, thank you for buying my work, visiting my website (www.vkpowellauthor.com), sending e-mails, and showing up for signings. You make my “job” so much fun!
Chapter One
Four days after she’d caught Sheri cheating, Emma Ferguson drove through the Virginia countryside, vehicle packed with her belongings, windows down, breathing what she hoped would be the air of a fresh start. The wind that lashed her hair into knots ushered in the earthen scent of fallen leaves and the faint smell of a wood fire while chilling the tears on her cheeks. Why couldn’t Sheri have been honest? Her infidelity stirred Emma’s vulnerabilities—her struggle for excellence and her lack of sexual passion. Would she ever find the right fit, a woman whose ambitions matched her own and who sparked that ever-elusive desire? If so, would she recognize and accept her? In light of her most recent failure, she doubted it.
“Snap out of it, Emma.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, imagining what her parents would say about her lapse into self-pity. “You’ve risen from the ruins of relationships before, and you’ll do it again. At least you’ve got a job to pay the bills for a few weeks.” But she wanted more, something with a steady income so she wasn’t living hand-to-mouth.
She glanced at the notes clipped to her calendar and recalled the conversation with her new employer a week ago.
“This is Fannie Mae Buffkin of Stuart, Virginia. I’m calling for Emma Ferguson the reporter.”
“Yes, Mrs. Buffkin, how can I help?”
“I’d like you to write a story on my family. My father founded the Thompson Furniture Company in Stuart. If you’re interested, I’d love to talk with you further.”
“Could you give me a few more details? I need to know I can sell the story to someone, to make it worth my time.”
“I’m willing to pay for your time, travel, and accommodations if you’ll come up and hear me out. I’d rather discuss the particulars in person, Ms. Ferguson. The story might evolve into something entirely different. I’m not being evasive, just honest. And I find the best way to see if we’re a good fit is to meet face-to-face.”
Maybe she could do a travel piece in the area and knock out two stories in one trip. “Well, you certainly know how to pique a reporter’s interest. I accept your invitation to talk, but I make no promises until I’ve heard more. Agreed?”
“Of course. I’ll send an advance immediately, to be kept whether or not you do the story. Please come as soon as possible. Time is of the essence.”
“Why the urgency?”
“An out-of-state construction company wants to purchase the site of our first factory and raze it…in four weeks’ time. I’d like you to see the place before that happens.”
Emma’s curiosity jangled and she couldn’t wait to hear the whole story. “Why did you call me instead of a local reporter?”
There was a long pause. “You’re freelance and don’t owe allegiance to a newspaper or magazine. And I think you’d appreciate my situation. That’s all I’ll say for now, but I hope you’ll take the job. You can name your price.”
Fannie Buffkin could’ve led with her last statement. Maybe Emma could get several stories out of this job, if the old lady wasn’t crazy and actually had the money to back up her offer. Something in Mrs. Buffkin’s Southern drawl sounded urgent, almost pleading. Maybe this story would be a springboard to the future Emma had always imagined—a distinguished career as an investigative reporter like her father.
When Emma turned onto the blacktop at the entrance to Fairy Stone State Park, she pulled off the side of the road and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. The wind and damp air had whipped her naturally curly red hair into a Medusa-like mess. She raked her fingers through several knots before settling for a simple pat-down. No real progress could be made without a hairdryer and brush. She reapplied lipstick and dabbed concealer under her eyes, puffy from crying. Damn Sheri. She’d had hopes for their relationship, but hoping seldom led to real-life results, at least not in her world.
“Good enough, Emma. You’re at a park in Virginia, not a five-star Marriott in DC.”
The Fairy Stone State Park office sported a freshly stained wood frame with rust-colored shingles and shutters that blended with the autumn surroundings. Bad memories of childhood summers spent in the wilderness her parents called summer camp returned, and she choked down a wave of sadness. She inhaled the cool night air and heard sounds she couldn’t identify coming from the nearby forest. Why had she chosen this natural habitat over civilized surroundings—Sheri would’ve loved it? Roughing it was so not Emma’s thing. Canceling the reservation would’ve cost more than the original booking, and even though Fannie Buffkin was paying the tab, she hated wasting money. She regretted her choice, but she was stuck. She squared her shoulders and walked toward the office door.
“Base to Ranger One,” Emma heard as she entered, the scent of cloves and cinnamon an unexpected welcome. The plump, gray-haired attendant pushed the base radio aside, peered over the top of rimless glasses, and smiled as Emma entered. Her nametag read Ann.
Pale-yellow curtains capped windows on either side of the office and pooled on the floor. Overstuffed leather recliners that showed signs of wear flanked a wood stove behind the counter, and a small kitchenette rounded out the homey feel.
Ann pushed up the sleeves of a pink polka-dotted white shirt and hooked her thumbs in the sides of lavender coveralls. This woman was a character any writer would be lucky to find. Already drawn into her colorful tableau, Emma looked forward to learning more.
Ann’s gaze roamed up and down Emma’s body and came to rest confidently on her eyes. “Evening, ma’am. Welcome to Fairy Stone Park. Have you been here before?”
“No, I haven’t. Emma Ferguson. I have a reservation.”
Ann shuffled through the short stack of yellow papers on the counter and slid one from the bottom. Looking from the registration form back at Emma, her eyes sparkled. “Here we go, but this reservation is for two people.”
“I’m sorry.” Emma tried to control the redhead’s blushing curse that always announced anything embarrassing or personal. She lost, and heat consumed her face. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Is it a problem?”
“Not at all. You’re staying with us for five days, Mrs. Ferguson?”
“Possibly longer, but I’ll keep you posted in case you need the cabin. And it’s Ms. Ferguson or Emma.”
“I’m Ann, pleasure’s mine,” she stated, offering her hand across the counter and exchanging a firm shake. “Vacation or working visit?”
“Mostly work, but I hope to relax a bit as well.” Emma liked this woman, especially her vibrant clothes, welcoming smile, and demeanor that said what you see is what you get. Maybe one day she’d allow herself that freedom.
“What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ann held up her hand. “On second thought, let me guess. I’d say you do something creative, maybe an artist, sculptor or…” Ann twisted her mouth to one side and squinted.
“I’m a freelance reporter.” Her answer lacked enthusiasm, and she wondered when her profession had become just a job.
“That was going to be my next guess, a writer of some sort. Well, I’m afraid you won’t find much to write about around these parts, but good luck.”
Emma pegged Ann as a nosy neighbor—curious, watchful, and a great resource for a writer. “Have you lived here long?”
“All my life in Stuart, off and on. I had a brief stint in the national guard when I was young but always came back home.”
Emma signed the registration, provided her vehicle license plate number, and slid cash across the counter to Ann. “I might want to ask some questions about Stuart—its history, people and such—if you’re willing and not too busy.”
“I would absolutely love to help, and I’m never too busy for a little tongue-wagging.” She tucked the money into a cash drawer and pulled the base radio closer. “Let me see if I can get some
help around this place, and we’ll get you settled.”
“Thank you, Ann.”
“Base to Ranger One.” Ann shrugged. “Rangers…where are they when you need one? Most think they’re God’s gift to the great outdoors.” Flashing Emma a wide grin, Ann said, “Probably out checking on possum flatulence in the park.”
Emma started to smother her laughter but enjoyed it instead. She hadn’t laughed in days and felt the tightness in her chest release. While they waited for the ranger to respond, she pictured a male version of Ann—a squatty gray-haired fellow, ample stomach scarcely covered by his ranger’s shirt, pants hanging on a butt-less behind, puffing and scrambling back to his vehicle to answer the duty call.
“Base, this is Ranger One. Go ahead, Ann.” The orotund female voice shattered Emma’s mental image, and she tilted her head to one side, eager to hear more. Her journalistic curiosity took over, and she imagined a tough butch who could start fire with two sticks, track lost campers, and name every variety of wildlife in the forest. How clichéd.
Ann grinned, a toothy smile that sparked in her gray eyes. “Ranger One, you got a key to cabin seven? Maintenance picked mine up earlier and hasn’t returned it yet.”
Another long silence followed, during which Emma imagined a very efficient, painstaking inspection for the right key.
“I’ve got one. What do you need?”
“Would you meet this lady over there and let her in? You can leave the key with her. She’s staying several days.”
The length of her stay was probably more information than the ranger needed. Maybe Ann liked the sound of her own voice, talking on the radio, or maybe it was the nosy-neighbor syndrome.