Her Deadly Inheritance

by Beth Ann Ziarnik

  Her Deadly Inheritance

  by

  Beth Ann Ziarnik

  HER DEADLY INHERITANCE BY BETH ANN ZIARNIK

  Published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614

  ISBN: 978-1-941103-60-9

  Copyright © 2016 by Beth Ann Ziarnik

  Cover design by Elaina Lee, www.forthemusedesign.com

  Interior design by Atritex, www.atritex.com

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at

  www.lighthousepublishingofthecarolinas.com

  For more information on this book and the author visit: www.bethziarnik.com

  All rights reserved. Non-commercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “Her Deadly Inheritance by Beth Ann Ziarnik published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the HOLY BIBLE NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION r. NIVr Copyright c 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas:

  J. Christine Richards, Rowena Kuo, Eddie Jones, Meaghan Burnett, Shonda Savage, and Deb Haggerty

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Ziarnik, Beth Ann.

  Her Deadly Inheritance / Beth Ann Ziarnik 1st ed.

  Praise for Her Deadly Inheritance

  Beth Ann Ziarnik’s debut novel, Her Deadly Inheritance, doesn’t disappoint. Set in a small town in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I could imagine the characters walking its streets and along the shores of Lake Superior. The story’s suspense kept me turning the pages. If you enjoy reading inspirational romantic suspense novels, you’ll want to pick up this one except you won’t want to put it down! A great story.

  ~ Andrea Boeshaar

  Bestselling Author of A Thousand Shall Fall

  Co-founder, American Christian Fiction Writers

  I loved Beth Ann Ziarnik’s novel, Her Deadly Inheritance, and couldn’t put it down! She drew her characters out so clearly. A top job.

  ~ Sally Bair

  Author of Willliwaw Winds and The Trouble at Fish Camp

  I really enjoyed Beth Ann Ziarnik’s debut novel, Her Deadly Inheritance. It had a great balance between the suspense and the romance, and kept me turning the pages!

  ~ Kathryn Springer

  USA Best Selling author of The Dandelion Field

  Beth Ann Ziarnik did a great job with Her Deadly Inheritance. Her heroine’s motivation and Christianity come through beautifully.”

  ~ Gloria Clover

  Author of Children of the King series

  I really enjoyed Her Deadly Inheritance. Beth’s characters were well developed and had great interaction. I could see their body language, and it was easy to picture each setting in my mind’s eye as I read. There was something to keep my interest throughout the entire story.

  ~ Michele Zraik

  Independent contractor, Crimping Tree West Avid reader of Christian fiction

  I love, love, love Her Deadly Inheritance. The story had enough twists and turns to keep me turning pages, made me feel like the characters were real and believable including Button (nice touch) and appreciated the way Beth wove the gospel into the story so that it was clear without becoming preachy. She has written a wonderful book that doesn’t just entertain people, but speaks to their hearts!

  ~ Susan Engebrecht

  Author and Speaker

  Co-Director, Green Lake Christian Writers Conference

  I had a hard time putting Her Deadly Inheritance down. I had to know how it ended.

  ~ Lin Johnson

  WordPro Communications

  Editor, The Christian Communicator

  Director, Write-to-Publish Conference

  I finished Her Deadly Inheritance at 2:00 am this morning. Beth’s fault that I’ll be blurry eyed today. Her debut novel definitely captured and held my interest. I’m proud of you, Beth.

  ~ Marlene Bagnull

  Author of Write His Answer and My Turn to Care

  Director, Colorado Christian Writers Conference

  Director, Greater Philly Christian Writers Conference

  To my beloved husband

  Acknowledgments

  Through the years, so many have helped or encouraged me that I could never name them all. Please know that I will always be grateful.

  Special thanks go to:

  My husband, Jim, who painted a two-story house to pay for my first writers’ conference, saw me through years of learning and minor successes, and insisted, “You worked hard, and you’re a good writer. If no one publishes your novel, I will!” Thank you, sweetheart, for believing in me.

  David Worel, a forest ranger with the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Northern Michigan. He enthusiastically showed me around Grand Island, taking me to the places that made up my novel’s setting. He also risked his life to save mine by grasping my bike handle and dragging me firmly away from a cliff where the path had washed out just enough to be dangerous.

  Oshkosh firemen Brett and Eric, and especially Chris, who patiently answered my many questions about the nature of house fires. Thank you for sharing your expertise.

  Lin Johnson and the Write-to-Publish Conference. Returning year after year, I learned how to answer God’s call to write, the skills of writing and marketing, and met many wonderful writers, editors, and publishers who encouraged me and helped me to grow. God bless you, Lin, for all your hard work.

  Jim Hart, my agent at Hartline Literary Agency. Ten days after receiving my novel’s proposal, he requested the full manuscript. Two weeks later, he declared he loved my novel and offered to represent me. From that point, he never wavered in believing a good publisher would offer a contract.

  Rowena Kuo, acquisitions editor at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, who championed my novel. I met her at Write-to-Publish, pitched my novel, and six months later, she made a contract offer.

  Editor Chris Richards whom I met at the same Write-to-Publish Conference. She gave my novel one of four big awards at the conference banquet. Now an editor at Lighthouse, she has worked with me to polish this novel and get it ready for publication. Thank you for your enthusiasm and expertise, Chris.

  My American Christian Fiction Writers critique group: Karen Witemeyer and Gloria Clover. Both of these dear friends have combed through every version of my novel, helping and encouraging me all the way.

  My Word & Pen Christian Writers critique group: Kathi Bloy, Kris Orkin, Ruth Schmeckpeper, and Chris Stratton, who fearlessly red-penciled my novel to help me to make it better, and cheered me on.

  My faithful prayer team: Carol Belongea, Lois Wiederhoeft, and Michele Zraik. Each week they take my requests before the Lord and share in praising him for his answers. I am blessed to have them i
n my life.

  Most of all, I thank my beloved Lord God. He not only called me to write but has guided me along the way and brought me into the land of published books. I am so grateful for his tender love and care.

  “The Lord is my strength and my shield;

  My heart trusts in him, and I am helped.”

  ~ Psalm 28:7, NIV

  Thanks to the Following Authors for Their Support of Her Deadly Inheritance

  A Gift for You

  Thank you for investing in this book. As a thank you, LPC Books would love to offer you advance review Kindle copies of our forthcoming books. These Kindle ebooks will be delivered to your Kindle reader. We release around 40 books a year. You pick which ones you wish to receive. Visit the link below to sign up for our FREE Kindle ebook subscriber list:

  http://lighthousepublishingofthecarolinas.com/free-ebook/

  Chapter One

  5: 00 a.m. Twelve hours before a judge would declare her legally dead.

  Clutching her cell phone to her ear, Jill Shepherd turned away from the red numbers glowing on her bedside clock and paced in the room’s pre-dawn shadows.

  “Say you’ll come, Jill.”

  “Don’t ask me, Uncle Drew. You know I can’t.” She squeezed her eyelids shut and struggled against the tightness in her throat. “The minute Lenore finds out I’m alive and you knew, she’ll think we planned this.”

  His wife would turn on them both for snatching the house on Michigan’s Grand Island from her at the last minute. “She’ll leave you.”

  “I’ll take my chances. More important things are at stake here.”

  His quiet resignation clawed at her conscience. She clenched her teeth. She would remain strong. He deserved that much.

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  She swallowed hard at his pleading.

  “I have to go,” he said, “but please come. The company plane is waiting at O’Hare. You have the pilot’s number. Call him.”

  Jill pulled in a shaky breath. “She’ll never forgive you.”

  “I’ll meet the plane when you get here. On the way to Windtop, we’ll decide how to break the news. Everything will be fine.”

  He disconnected the call.

  Everything would not be fine. Even he knew too well that someone would pay. The same woman who had driven Jill’s fragile mother into seclusion would see to it.

  Jill laid her phone on the bedside table near her Bible and ran her hand over the book’s leather cover. She often drew comfort from touching it. Nothing this time.

  Jill chewed her lip as she paced. She wouldn’t go back. Let Lenore have Windtop. She deserved that rotting old place.

  After light rapping at her bedroom door, it opened with a slight squeak, hall light knifing through the shadows. “Are you awake, Jill? I heard talking.”

  Retreating to her bed, Jill turned on her lamp and crawled onto the rumpled sheets where she scooted back until she had trapped the pillows against the headboard. “Come in, Nona.”

  In yellow bunny slippers and pink flannel pajamas, her older housemate padded across the carpeted floor to sit at the foot of the bed. “For what it’s worth, I think you should go.”

  Jill shook her head. Nona had no idea of all the trouble that would follow if Jill took her well-meaning advice.

  Tenderness born of their friendship shone in the older woman’s gaze. “Isn’t it time you faced the truth about your mother’s death? Isn’t it time you found peace?”

  “Peace at Windtop? Impossible!”

  “God specializes in the impossible, Jill.”

  “You don’t know Lenore.”

  “God does.”

  “I can’t just leave the Rogers’ project.” Nona had entrusted it to her. In these hard times, failing to meet the deadline could cripple her friend’s genealogy business.

  “Take it with you. When it’s ready, send it by attachment, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  The woman could sure be stubborn. “But—”

  “Give God a chance, Jill. He won’t fail you.” Nona stood up and walked to the open door where she paused. “The decision is yours. Make sure it’s the right one, okay? I’ll be praying for you.”

  The door closed, and Nona’s parting remarks left Jill numb, but she had to do something. Easing herself to the edge of the bed, she swung her legs over and let them dangle. What was she supposed to do? Go to Windtop and expose the lies, take whatever her aunt dished out, and maybe shatter a marriage? Or hide out in Chicago, go on as before, and leave her aunt blissfully unaware? One choice frightened her. The other sickened her.

  Argh! She buried her fingers in her hair and clutched her head. Flopping backward onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling. “God, I don’t need Windtop. I don’t even want that rotten house and its ugly memories.” Tears trickled down the sides of her face, wetting the hairline around her ears and dropping to her rumpled sheets. “So what if I’m declared dead? Staying out of Lenore’s reach would be worth it.”

  Of what use was an aging pile of wood and bricks that had driven the family apart? Nothing but a haunting reminder that her mother and Maggie were gone from this earth.

  And she had failed them.

  Returning now didn’t make sense. She couldn’t undo the past. If only her pastor hadn’t spoken last Sunday about the God who loved her but also hated a lying tongue. The words had reached deep into her heart, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t forget them. If she really wanted nothing to stand between God and herself, how could she go on living a lie? How could she go on hiding the truth from Lenore and trapping Uncle Drew into doing the same?

  Her uncle never wanted to deceive his wife. He only gave in to Jill’s pleading. She was ashamed, now, to admit she had taken advantage of his regrets about his sister’s death. How she had manipulated him.

  At the time, she hadn’t been a Christian, but what did that matter now? That sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to go away and made her choice clear. She had no excuse. A lie, even for the right reasons, was still a lie. Yet wasn’t destroying a marriage wrong too?

  As the pink of dawn spread its pale light through her bedroom’s lace curtains, a fat tear slipped down her cheek. In her twenty-two years, she had made enough miserable mistakes. She couldn’t bear to make another one. Not of this magnitude.

  Nona thought she knew the right answer.

  “But, Lord, I don’t know,” Jill whispered. “Which way should I go? Please tell me what to do.”

  A tender silence hung in the room, yet no word came to her heart.

  Jill picked up her Bible, left the bed, and crossed the room to turn on a floor lamp near a bank of windows overlooking an empty Chicago street. She snuggled in an overstuffed armchair and opened the book. As she did, a photograph slipped from its pages. Snatching it midair, she turned it over. Uncle Drew had given it to her.

  She found it hard to believe that Windtop no longer resembled the decaying heap she’d left behind three years ago. The brick was now clean. The Victorian balconies, turrets, and porches were repaired and painted a rich chocolate brown. Even the stained-glass panes circling the cupola on the roof gleamed in the sunlight—no doubt thanks to the restoration contractor Lenore had hired.

  Her gaze moved to the young man with dark hair, broad shoulders, work jeans, and a long-sleeved cotton shirt who stood in the foreground. He stared into the camera with guarded surprise. Funny, as many times as she had studied this picture, something in his eyes tugged at her heart.

  She snorted “No way,” and slid the photo inside her Bible’s back cover. She’d never get close enough to meet this Clay Merrick. Restored or not, what Uncle Drew called her rightful inheritance was more of a deadly inheritance she had no desire to claim. The old house had brought nothing but sorrow and strife to her mother. Jill could expect nothing better.

  Returning made no sense.

  Flipping her Bible’s pages open to where she had left off the day before
, Jill lost herself in the story of Jesus and a demon-possessed man in Mark’s Gospel. Crazed and living naked among tombs, the man had no one to rescue him.

  Until Jesus came.

  She drew back. The sudden sense that she had something in common with this man startled her.

  Okay, she’d never been crazed or lived among tombstones, but a year ago, she’d felt as trapped. Learning of her mother’s suicide had nearly driven her to do the same. Jill would never have known the good life she had now if Nona hadn’t reached her in time.

  Then why did it feel as if God were nudging her back to Windtop, to all the chaos, all the pain? A loving God wouldn’t do that, would he?

  Of course not.

  She released a shuddering breath and returned to her reading, blinking as the next words jumped off the page.

  “Go home to your family …”

  Clay Merrick frowned as his gaze swept the summer sky over Hanley Field. He had no business getting involved with Drew Bradwell’s personal life. Why hadn’t he just said no?

  He knew why. Because he couldn’t come up with a decent excuse fast enough. So here he stood in the deserted airfield’s one-lane parking area, waiting for his client’s niece. And she wasn’t his only problem.

  Gravel crunched beneath his leather boots as he crouched to peer beneath his old Ford F150. Not a kitten in sight. Slick little creature. He stood and popped the truck’s hood once more. At least it hadn’t climbed up onto the air filter. He slammed the hood.

  The niece and the kitten—two unaware and helpless creatures. His mother would have said, “You can’t save the world, son.” Maybe not, but he would try. He gritted his teeth and tapped the hood. He’d check again before he left—hopefully without Jill Shepherd.

  Shading his eyes from the noonday sun, he scanned the clear blue sky again—still no plane. He dropped his gaze to the thick wall of evergreens surrounding the secluded field. Bradwell sure knew how to spirit the girl into the community unseen. Not another soul or plane was in sight. Not that it would matter once the man’s wife found out.