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“Striking Distance by Debra Webb is a fast-moving, sensual blend of mystery and suspense…I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
—New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard
“…brims with tightly woven suspense around every corner, and twists and turns abound. Webb moves effortlessly between two very diverse romances and masterfully keeps the reader on the edge until the last page.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Striking Distance
“Webb reaches into our deepest nightmares and pulls out a horrifying scenario. She delivers the ultimate villain for our computer-driven world—a techno sadist. Fortunately, she also gives us a battle-scarred hero who is still willing to fight and a loyal heroine who believes in justice.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub
“A chilling tale that will keep readers turning pages long into the night, Dying To Play is a definite keeper.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Lots of action and an out-of-the-ordinary hero add up to an unforgettable adventure!”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on John Doe on Her Doorstep
“A page-turning blockbuster.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Executive Bodyguard
“An engrossing thriller with a dynamic heroine.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Man of Her Dreams
“A chilling page-turner.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Full Exposure
Dear Reader,
It’s hard to believe that the Signature Select program is one year old—with seventy-two books already published by top Harlequin and Silhouette authors.
What an exciting and varied lineup we have in the year ahead! In the first quarter of the year, the Signature Spotlight program offers three very different reading experiences. Popular author Marie Ferrarella, well-known for her warm family-centered romances, has gone in quite a different direction to write a story that has been “haunting her” for years. Please check out Sundays Are for Murder in January. Hop aboard a Caribbean cruise with Joanne Rock in The Pleasure Trip for February, and don’t miss a trademark romantic suspense from Debra Webb, Vows of Silence in March.
Our collections in the first quarter of the year explore a variety of contemporary themes. Our Valentine’s collection—Write It Up!—homes in on the trend to online dating in three stories by Elizabeth Bevarly, Tracy Kelleher and Mary Leo. February is awards season, and Barbara Bretton, Isabel Sharpe and Emilie Rose join the fun and glamour in And the Envelope, Please…. And in March, Leslie Kelly, Heather MacAllister and Cindi Myers have penned novellas about women desperate enough to go to Bootcamp to learn how not to scare men away!
Three original sagas also come your way in the first quarter of this year. Silhouette author Gina Wilkins spins off her popular FAMILY FOUND miniseries in Wealth Beyond Riches. Janice Kay Johnson has written a powerful story of a tortured shared past in Dead Wrong, which is connected to her PATTON’S DAUGHTERS Superromance miniseries, and Kathleen O’Brien gives a haunting story of mysterious murder in Quiet as the Grave.
And don’t forget there is original bonus material in every single Signature Select book to give you the inside scoop on the creative process of your favorite authors! We hope you enjoy all our new offerings!
Enjoy!
Marsha Zinberg
Executive Editor
The Signature Select Program
Growing up on a farm in small-town Alabama provided many wonderful experiences for my fertile imagination. But it’s the lifelong friends who make my Southern history so cherished. One friend in particular was my classmate in school. She married the man of her dreams the same summer I married mine, and went on to have two lovely daughters just as I did. Together we have made the journey from naive young country girls to wives and mothers. We have suffered loss and risen above tragedy. We have made memorable marks in our communities. From birthday parties to PTA fund-raising events, we have worn dozens of hats and wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything in the world. This book is dedicated to my friend, my second sister, Joyce Campbell Alley.
Cheers, Joyce!
Dear Reader,
Though Ashland, the town in my story, is fictitious, I grew up in a small town in Alabama much like it. I lived on a farm with a family that was very close. We shared so many wonderful experiences together. Look in the bonus features at the back of this book for one of the more frightening moments from my childhood.
Another wonderful part of growing up in the South was the friends I made along the way—lifelong friends like Joyce, Candi and Evelyn. Friends who would do anything to protect each other and who would keep a secret for a lifetime if necessary. Vows of Silence is about that kind of friendship, one that transcends all else. I hope you’ll follow this journey with Lacy, Cassidy, Melinda and Kira and find out just how enduring—and at times dangerous—true friendship can be.
As always, I cherish your input. Please check out my Web site at www.debrawebb.com and contact me from there. I’d love to hear from you!
Until next time,
Deb
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
BONUS FEATURES INSIDE
Chapter 1
“They found the body.”
Lacy Jane Oliver froze mid-turn at her perpetually cluttered desk, the receiver clutched to her ear. They found the body. Her mouth went incredibly dry as vivid snatches of memory, snow falling from a dark, starless sky and murky waters flashed through her mind.
“When?” she heard herself ask. Her voice sounded alien to her own ears, and Lacy was quite certain her heart had stilled in her chest. It’s been ten years, she didn’t say. She didn’t have to. Cassidy knew every bit as well as Lacy did how long it had been. How could either of them ever forget?
“Day before yesterday,” Cassidy answered without inflection. “The chief informed Melinda this morning that the remains had been ID’d. Of course you know that she’ll be their prime suspect. The fact that she was in the hospital at the time won’t keep them from investigating that avenue,” she added with a resigned sigh.
Lacy’s chest tightened as her seemingly failed heart now slammed mercilessly against her rib cage. “Oh God,” she murmured. Though Cassidy was an attorney, it didn’t take one to know that Melinda, the wife of the deceased, would be the number-one suspect.
“I’ve already called Kira. We’re both taking the next available flights. We’ll meet in Atlanta, then fly home together.”
Home. Despite having lived away for more than ten years, Ashland, Alabama, was still home…for all of them.
“I’m on my way,” Lacy said quickly, instantly ticking off a mental checklist of all she would need to do to get away from the office for a few days. “I can probably be there before either of you.”
“Good. Melinda will need you.”
Dead air hummed between them for two beats.
“Remember, Lacy,” Cassidy finally said in a tone that made Lacy uneasy. “We’ve come together during every crisis each of us has endured. This time, especially, we have to do the same. Every move we make must be our routine…exactly what people would expect. We all took the same vow. We’re in this together.”
A strange calm settled over Lacy. “I remember. See you soon,” she murmured before hanging up the phone.
The vow…silence.
Ice suddenly filled her veins. Lacy could almost feel the snow and the sharp slap of the wind against her face. Then the biting fury of that winter night had stopped so very abruptly, as if even the wind had known that something was amiss. There had been nothing but silence…and the vow they had made to one another.
To stand by one another, protect one another…no matter the consequences. Equally guilty.
Not much had changed about Ashland, Lacy noted as she slowed her Explorer to the posted speed limit upon entering the city limits of her hometown. She had opted to drive from Atlanta to Ashland, Alabama, after she discovered that the next available flight going in that direction was two hours away. Add to that the actual flying time, luggage pickup and rental-car hassle, and driving direct had won hands down. Lacy had driven like a bat out of hell, which pretty much summed up her churning emotions at the moment, and had managed to make the road trip in record time.
The ever-lingering odor of sulfur hung in the early June air and offended her nostrils. The old paper mill, a couple of textile factories, and a mobile-home manufacturer lined the western end of Norman C. Ashland Boulevard.
Ashland. Lacy shuddered as the name ricocheted through some dark, rarely visited recesses of her mind. She would not think about that right now. She had to focus on keeping her cool and supporting Melinda.
Melinda. God, what she must be going through right now. And the kids. Chuckie was fifteen, but Chelsea was only twelve, too young to understand any of this and too old to be blessedly oblivious. Lacy prayed with all her heart that somehow this whole nightmare would just go away.
Yeah, right, she mused with self-disgust. Murder doesn’t just go away.
Murder.
Why couldn’t the bastard just stay buried? Even in death, he still tormented Melinda. And her, Lacy admitted. Not one night had passed in the last ten years that she hadn’t thought of that low-life son of a bitch. Not a single one. And now he was back to haunt her days.
And maybe ruin all their lives.
Lacy slowly maneuvered the narrow streets bordering the town square. The reconstruction-era courthouse stood proudly as the centerpiece of Ashland’s growing municipality. Leaves fluttered at the sudden, rare summer’s breeze invitation to dance. A few broke loose from their lush limbs and floated to the ground only to rustle along the aging sidewalks. A collage of shops, old and new, ranging from a turn-of-the-century drugstore with soda fountain to stylish contemporary boutiques, flanked the streets surrounding the courthouse. Other than a fresh coat of paint here and there, and a flashy new business sign, the town’s center looked much the same.
Lacy smiled when she caught a glimpse of three old men sitting on a park bench on the east side of the square whittling away at stubs of wood. She wondered if they could possibly be the same three from her childhood.
She shook her head at her mind’s foolish meandering. No way. Her childhood felt a lifetime away now. Besides, she hardly knew anyone here anymore. She rarely visited her parents, once a year at the most, and then only on Thanksgiving or someone’s birthday. Never at Christmas.
Never, ever at Christmas.
She shuddered again. What was Christmas anyway? Just an opportunity for toy and gadget manufacturers to get rich by intimidating unsuspecting parents into buying products their children didn’t need. Of all people, Lacy should know. It was advertising executives like her who paved the way for just such blatant thievery. Christmas had become little more than a gimmick. Besides, Lacy Oliver had little time for family or holidays anymore. She was a senior partner at Baldwin, Hall and Oliver, one of Atlanta’s top advertising firms.
She didn’t need anything Ashland had to offer.
But she had to be here now for Melinda’s sake.
For all of their sakes. To protect their secret.
Lacy guided her SUV into the driveway of Melinda’s two-story Colonial-style home. Bride-white siding and classic black shutters enveloped the two-story home that reigned amid a backdrop of mature oak and maple trees and meticulously maintained shrubbery. Long, sturdy columns stood as sentinels guarding the welcoming entrance.
After shifting into Park, Lacy turned off the ignition. For a while she simply sat there and stared up at one long window on the far right of the second floor. The master bedroom. She swallowed. The image of Charles lying naked in that ivory porcelain tub with a small, round bullet hole in the middle of his chest and another higher on his shoulder loomed large before her eyes. Then her mind fast-forwarded to the glint of moonlight on his silver Mercedes as it slipped into the murky depths of the natural lake that bordered a good portion of the town.
Lacy blinked away the horrible images. Remembered hysteria climbed into her throat just as it had done that cold, dark night ten years ago. Disbelief, fear, desperation all twisted inside her the same way it had then.
What had they done?
She clenched her jaw and reminded herself of what was really important now. They had to protect Melinda, and one another. The bastard had deserved to die. Lacy refused to acknowledge the little voice that always, always nagged at her battered conscience. She would not regret what she could not change. The world was a better place without Charles Ashland. For ten long years he had been a missing person whom no one missed at all, save for his parents, who were blind to his evil ways as parents will be with their own flesh and blood.
But now he was back and poised to destroy the lives of everyone involved. Everything Lacy had worked for, all she had hoped and dreamed of was about to go down the toilet. Self-preservation nudged at her waning determination to no avail. No matter how she justified their actions, the bottom line still hammered away at her self-rationalized defense—murder was wrong regardless of how much the victim deserved to die.
How had she fooled herself into pretending that what they had done was somehow right? Nausea roiled in her stomach. How in God’s name had she allowed this to happen? Everything had spun out of control so quickly. There had been no time to think, only to react. Now the past, their desperate act, had caught up with them. The secret they had watched disappear beneath the glassy black surface of the water that long-ago night, was now fully exhumed in the bright, unforgiving light of day.
Charles Ashland, Junior, was dead.
The intricately detailed wood-paneled entrance to the Ashland home suddenly opened and Lacy got her first glimpse of Melinda’s pale and drawn face. That picture slammed into Lacy with such force that she jerked with the momentum of it.
Melinda needed her.
The thought shored up her crumbling resolve, solidified her emotions. Melinda and the children had to be top priority now. Her movements deliberate and sure, Lacy opened the car door and got out. Without taking her eyes off Melinda, she walked up the sidewalk and steps and straight to her friend. Fear glittered in Melinda’s wide hazel eyes. The red, swollen rings around them told Lacy that she had cried all day. Her lips were set in a thin, grim line, bracketed by furrows of fatigue. Just like always, her long blond hair was pulled back into a clasp at her nape. And, just like always, Lacy wanted more than anything to protect her.
“What are we going to do?” Melinda murmured, then trembled.
Lacy pulled Melinda into her arms and held her tight for one long moment without answering. She closed her eyes and wished things had turned out differently. Lacy called to mind the happy little girls they used to be. She envisioned the jump rope swinging high over their heads, pigtails flying, laughter echoing. They had been friends forever. Nothing could change who they were…or what they had done.
“We’ll do whatever we have to,” Lacy whispered roughly. Tears burned behind her clenched lids as she held her friend closer to her heart. This was way bigger than the four of them—children were involved. Innocent children. How could fate be so very cruel as to resurrect this evil into their lives? She held on to Melinda and tried not to consider the answer to her own question.
Lacy took a deep, calming breath as she drew back. “Where are the kids?”
Melinda brushed at the tears sliding down her cheeks. “Chuckie’s away at school. Summer session just started. I went first thing this morning to talk to him. He doesn’t…” She cleared her throat. “He doesn’t want to come home while this is going on…he…” Renewed tears filled her eyes. “He doesn’t even want to talk about it. Chelsea…she’s with the Ashlands.” She shook her head slowly from side to side. “She adores them, you know. They picked her up early this afternoon in case I had to go to—” she swallowed back a sob “—the chief of police’s office when I got back from visiting Chuckie. They don’t want him to come home, either. I think maybe they’ve spoken to him about that already.” She shrugged and lowered her head in defeat. “They don’t tell me anything.”
Lacy gritted her teeth to hold back the retort she wanted to make. She had forgotten the Ashlands’ insistence that Chuckie be enrolled in the same private military academy his father had attended until his high school years. It hadn’t mattered what Melinda wanted. Fortunately this should be Chuckie’s final year away. Charles had started high school with Lacy and the others his sophomore year. His son, apparently, would do the same. And, of course, the Ashlands thought Chelsea was better off with them, too. Melinda was too common, too weak…too unlike them. But she was the mother of their grandchildren, so they tolerated her. Barely.
“What do you think?” Lacy said instead of the litany of comments she wanted to make about snobbery, arrogance, and self-centeredness.
Melinda shook her head. “I don’t know what I think.” Her gaze connected with Lacy’s. “Maybe they’re right. Lord knows I can’t think straight right now. I’m scared.”
Lacy took Melinda’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Cassidy and Kira will be here soon. We’ll take care of this.” She displayed a confident smile that she in no way felt. “Somehow,” she added with feigned reassurance.
Melinda winced. “I’m sorry.” She stepped back from the doorway. “Come in. I know you’re exhausted from the long drive. I wasn’t thinking.”
And how could she? Lacy defended. Melinda’s whole life was unraveling around her. Charles, the bastard, was reaching out from the grave and tormenting her and her children once more. Lacy stepped into the foyer and waited as Melinda closed the door behind her. Lacy took that moment to scan the house into which she would just as soon not set foot ever again. But she had no choice.
The elegantly curved staircase hugged one wall of the two-story entry hall, then flowed onto the upstairs landing. Its sleek oak banister gleamed beneath the sunlight that dappled in from the second-story windows. Conservative, linen-colored walls and rich, ornate trim work defined the generous space that was both inviting and pretentious—the mark of an Ashland family home. From what Lacy could see, Melinda hadn’t changed much about the place. Lacy knew money wasn’t a problem. Hell, she couldn’t imagine what had kept her in this house, period. Lacy would have moved long before now. She supposed it had something to do with the children. Maybe Melinda didn’t want to take them from the only home they had ever known.
“Would you like tea or…something?” Melinda offered hesitantly, interrupting Lacy’s intense reverie.
She blinked. “Maybe later.” Smiling, she looped her arm around Melinda’s to guide her toward the family room. “Let’s just sit and chat until the others arrive.”
Melinda paused, halting their forward movement. “About the investigation?” Renewed fear and a dozen other emotions that Lacy couldn’t quite sort flickered in the worried gaze that searched hers.
Lacy patted her friend’s arm in an effort to calm both their fears. “About anything but that,” she suggested with as much nonchalance as she could marshal.
Melinda breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I don’t want to talk about it…not yet.”
Lacy started forward once more. “Tell me how Chuckie’s doing in school. I’ll bet Chelsea’s broken a dozen hearts already.”
Melinda’s face burst into a smile bright enough to chase away most of the darker emotions clouding her eyes. “You should hear her play the piano. She’s amazing.” Melinda sighed. “And Chuckie’s doing great. I can’t believe how much he’s grown this past year. Wait until you see him, Lacy. He’s tall and handsome just like…” Melinda’s exuberant expression instantly crumpled.
Charles, she didn’t have to say. Lacy remembered all too well how handsome Charles Ashland had been. It was only his heart that was mean and ugly.
Lacy changed direction and headed toward the kitchen, Melinda in tow. “Maybe I’ll have that tea now after all.” They both needed something to do.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Lacy slipped her arm around her friend’s slumped shoulders and squeezed gently. “Me, too.” They were all feeling the weight of their past sins, Melinda in particular.
The kitchen hadn’t changed, either. Same fruit-and-Tuscan motif. Lacy slid onto a stool at the island bar as Melinda busied herself with adding water to the teakettle. Acres of weathered white cabinetry and tasteful Italian tile decorated the enormous gourmet kitchen. A huge rack, heavy with shiny pots and pans, cooking utensils and dried herbs and flowers hung over the island. Charles had spared no expense when he built this house to showcase his children and his less-than-socially-worthy wife.
Melinda’s family had crashed and burned financially when she was sixteen, but that hadn’t changed her standing with her true friends. But it sure as hell had turned the Ashland family upside down when Charles announced two years later that Melinda was having his child. They had married the day after high-school graduation, the entire grand event paid for by the reigning royal family. It hadn’t mattered that Melinda’s was a good family, it only mattered that their stock portfolio wasn’t up to par. But blood was thicker than water. The child she carried made Melinda acceptable, however marginally.
If only they had known the kind of man Charles really was beneath those devilishly handsome looks and all that smooth-talking charm.
But they hadn’t. Every girl in town had a crush on the prince of Ashland…Melinda just happened to be the one who didn’t get off without the life sentence.
Lacy shivered at the memory of the terrible bruises, concussion and fractured rib Melinda had suffered at her husband’s hand. Not to mention the years of emotional abuse. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d lost her father mere days before high-school graduation and then her mother when Chuckie was just a baby. She’d been all alone at the mercy of the Ashlands after Lacy and the others left. She’d suffered far too much.
“Sugar or cream?”
Lacy snapped back to the here and now. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Your tea,” Melinda gestured to the steaming cup. “Do you want sugar or—”
“Sugar is fine,” Lacy said quickly. She had to stay focused. She couldn’t keep zoning out like this. Too many lives depended on the events of the next few days. A clear head was a must. With monumental effort, she slowed her pounding heart and concentrated on leveling out her breathing. If the panic building inside her got a foothold, she would be in serious trouble.