Beyond a Doubt
Colleen Coble
PRAISE FOR
BEYOND A DOUBT
“Colleen Coble has captured the claustrophobia of a small town wracked by a long-ago murder and a present-day stalker. Mystery, romance, and dark family secrets combine for a compelling read.”
—Randall Ingermanson,
author of Oxygen and Premonition
“Colleen Coble’s Beyond a Doubt tingled my nerves and touched my heart. This episode in the Rock Harbor Series is a wonderful story of forgiveness and commitment.”
—Angela Hunt,
author of The Debt
“Without a doubt, Beyond a Doubt by Colleen Coble has what it takes—genuine romance, heartfelt emotion and baited-breath suspense. Dive in!”
—Lyn Cote,
author of Winter's Secret
“When life gets too crazy, I know I can always settle into my favorite chair with a novel from one of my favorite authors, Colleen Coble, and trust her to take me away. Her latest novel, Beyond a Doubt, kept me reading long into the night with those exciting and lovable Rock Harbor characters, both human and canine. Another winner, Colleen!”
—Hannah Alexander,
author of The Hideaway Series
“Colleen Coble has delivered another action-packed, supsenseful masterpiece that kept me guessing until the very end. If you like romantic suspense, Beyond a Doubt will be one of the best books you read all year!”
—Denise Hunter,
author of The Trouble with Cowboys
“I loved this book! I was completely lost in Rock Harbor and Bree’s adventures. This book has everything: intrigue, suspense and romance! And Samson is the perfect K-9 hero!”
—Kristin Billerbeck,
author of What a Girl Wants
“An exciting read! The snap of winter, a spunky heroine with human flaws, snowmobiles plowing through snow drifts in the North Woods, a frozen lake caught in a spring thaw, and a lighthouse dark with mystery will keep you burning the midnight oil!”
—Doris Elaine Fell,
author of Betrayal in Paris
and The Trumpet at Twisp
“The past and present collide when long-forgotten deeds are brought to light. With non-stop action and characters who will find a special place in your heart, Beyond a Doubt will keep you guessing until the very end. Colleen Coble's best suspense yet!”
—Carol Cox,
author of To Catch a Thief
“Beyond a Doubt is terrific! Keeping a firm hold on a fascinating cast of characters, Colleen Coble has delivered a book full of suspense and mystery as well as the overwhelming grace of God. You will love it!”
—Gayle Roper,
author of Winter Winds,
Autumn Dreams, and Summer Shadows
BEYOND A
DOUBT
ALSO BY COLLEEN COBLE
Birthday Wishes included in Smitten
Love Between the Lines included in Secretly Smitten
UNDER TEXAS STARS NOVELS
Blue Moon Promise
Safe in His Arms
THE HOPE BEACH NOVELS
Tidewater Inn
Rosemary Cottage (available July 2013)
THE LONESTAR NOVELS
Lonestar Sanctuary
Lonestar Secrets
Lonestar Homecoming
Lonestar Angel
THE MERCY FALLS NOVELS
The Lightkeeper’s Daughter
The Lightkeeper’s Bride
The Lightkeeper’s Ball
THE ROCK HARBOR SERIES
Without a Trace
Beyond a Doubt
Into the Deep
Cry in the Night
Silent Night: A Rock Harbor Christmas novella (available as an e-book only)
THE ALOHA REEF SERIES
Distant Echoes
Black Sands
Dangerous Depths
Midnight Sea
Alaska Twilight
Fire Dancer
Abomination
Anathema
©2004 Colleen Coble
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV). ©1973, 1978, 1984, International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-4016-8859-2 (2013 repackage)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Coble, Colleen.
Beyond a doubt / by Colleen Coble.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-8499-4430-7 (softcover)
ISBN 978-1-59554-317-2 (repak)
1. Upper Peninsula (Mich.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.O2285B495 2004
813'.54—dc22
2003026100
Printed in the United States of America
13 14 15 16 17 18 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my parents, Peggy and George Rhoads
And my “other parents” and in-laws, Lena and Carroll Coble
Your love and belief in me gave me wings.
CONTENTS
DEAR READER
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
READING GROUP GUIDE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEAR READER,
I’m so glad you picked up Beyond a Doubt, the second book in the Rock Harbor series!
Rock Harbor became very real to me as I wrote Without a Trace, so when readers—and my editor!—told me they were eager to know more about Bree and Samson, I was eager to oblige. Bree’s best friend Naomi had particularly intrigued me, so she plays a big part in this story. I also gave myself permission to really explore the idea of forgiveness—what it means to withhold forgiveness and to extend it to others . . . and to yourself. That’s a theme I never tire of playing with because it is vastly important to me.
There are more books set in Rock Harbor on their way to you. Watch for my first children’s book, all about my precious granddaughter, Alexa Grace. Her “Punky” book is coming in July 2013—set in Rock Harbor of course! It’s titled The Blessings Jar. And there are more Rock Harbor books in the works. Rock Harbor Search and Rescue releases in April 2013 and Lost and Found will be out in October 2013. They feature Emily, the young girl in Without a Trace. She’s fourteen now and has a search dog of her own.
And do email me and let me know what you think. I love to hear from my rea
ders. Email me at [email protected] and visit my website at colleencoble.com.
Happy reading!
Colleen
PROLOGUE
Bitterness tore at Quentin Siller with the same ferocity as the cold wind that ripped at his jacket. Bree and Anu Nicholls stood on the front porch, barring his way to the door. Quentin scowled as he waded through the snow on the front lawn. Meddlesome busybodies. They’d interfered the last time he had to discipline his wife.
Bree Nicholls was a looker with that red hair and eyes as green as his old truck, but she needed a man to make her toe the line. She and her mother-in-law both. That’s what happened when women dried up—they turned into witches who poked their long noses into a man’s business. If not for the Nicholls women, his happy home would still be just that—happy. Until they began to tell his wife she didn’t have to submit to his authority, things had been just fine. A little slap or two never hurt anyone. A few bruises would teach his wife to listen to what he said. Didn’t the Bible say that a man was to keep his house in order and have an obedient wife and children? That’s all he was doing. Now Karen actually questioned him. She would have to be taught to keep her mouth shut.
His anger, trapped in his chest, nearly choked him. He stopped at the base of the steps and glared at these women who dared to bar his entry to his own house. “Get out of my way!”
Anu Nicholls stretched out an entreating hand. “Quentin, this time you broke her nose.” Her voice broke. “You may not come inside today. You must get help for your anger.”
Rage in a red tide as hot as a July day made him dizzy. These women would pay for their interference. He started up the steps.
Bree’s dog, Samson, a German shepherd/chow mix, growled softly and took a step toward him. Quentin stopped, clenching and unclenching his hands. Bree stepped in front of her mother-in-law. “Don’t try anything, Quentin. The sheriff is on his way over. You’re breaking a restraining order.” She pointed at a suitcase. “Karen packed some of your things. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find another place to live.”
“Just for now,” Anu added. “Your pastor is waiting to talk with you. Please, Quentin, you must get help before you kill Karen. We wish to save your marriage, but first you must get control of yourself.” Her voice softened. “I know you love your family, Quentin. And they love you. But you can’t keep hurting your wife.”
He sputtered, anger leaving him incoherent. “You have no right,” he said tightly. “That’s my house and my wife.” He put a foot onto the step and continued to mount the stairs.
The dog’s growl grew menacing, but in Quentin’s state of mind he imagined he could tear the mongrel limb from limb. His anger consumed him, and his vision narrowed to a pinpoint. Suddenly, a heavy hand yanked him back.
“You’re already facing assault and battery,” Sheriff Mason Kaleva said. “Don’t add another charge to it.”
A burly man in his thirties, the sheriff wasn’t someone most people wanted to tangle with, but Quentin was past all fear. He struggled to no avail against the officer’s grip. The sheriff dragged him to his car and shoved him into the back. After being read his rights, Quentin found himself booked and jailed for breaking the restraining order.
When he finally posted bail several hours later, he knew what he had to do.
1
The North Woods crowded in around her, cutting off all possibility of escape. The brambles tore at her skin and left trickles of blood where they touched. Davy was calling for her, crying out for her to find him. Perspiration matted her hair to her forehead, and she pressed on through the thorns. She had to find him. He was depending on her.
They said he was dead, but she knew it wasn’t so. He was out here somewhere. Samson barked, an urgent sound that propelled her past the thicket. A cabin lay in the valley before her. He was down there. Her son was waiting for her. Samson barked again and rushed forward.
Bree Nicholls awoke with a start. She forced herself to take deep breaths. In and out, in and out. She and Samson had found Davy in a cabin very much like the one in her dream. He was just fine. But the terror of the nightmare didn’t leave her. Had Samson really barked? Maybe something was wrong.
She slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway to her son’s bedroom. Moonlight filtered through the Superman curtains at his window. Her bare feet whispered across the smooth oak floor until she reached the bed. She touched a small hump in the covers, and her hand sank to the mattress. She gasped, and her hands roamed the tousled blankets and sheets.
She stepped to the wall and flicked on the light. “Davy?”
The doctor had said to make sure she didn’t startle him when he was having one of his night terrors. She went to the closet and looked on the floor. Only a jumble of baseballs, his father’s mitt, and some Playmobil pirates lay on the floor. She looked under the bed. Not there. Panic rose in her chest in a rush of cold dread.
She ran to the door and called for her dog as she rushed down the hallway. “Samson!” The dog could lead her to her boy. At the top of the stairs, she touched the light switch and a welcome brightness lit the way.
She reached the bottom of the steps. “Samson, come!”
She heard the click of his nails on the hardwood floor of the entry. He came through the door into the living room, his tail down, a sure sign of distress. He pressed his cold nose against her leg, bare below her knee-length nightgown.
Bree rubbed his ears. “Where’s Davy, boy? Find Davy.”
The dog whined and padded down the entry hall toward the back of the house. Four years old now, he had the stamina of a German shepherd mixed with the heart of the true mutt he was. She followed him. He pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. A musty scent wafted up from the open basement door. Surely Davy wasn’t down there. What if he’d fallen? Frantic now, Bree flipped on the basement light, grabbed the flashlight on a shelf at the top of the landing, and rushed past Samson down the stairs.
There was no sign of Davy at the foot of the stairs, and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease a bit. At least he hadn’t fallen. “Davy?” she called, still careful to keep her voice soft and as unconcerned as she was able.
A whimper answered her, but in the cavernous shadows of the basement, she couldn’t tell where it came from. Samson pushed past her and padded toward a shadowy recess. The dog lay on his paws and stared under a bulky table laden with Rob’s tools. He looked back toward Bree as if to ask what was taking her so long.
She went to the table and dropped to her knees. “Davy, I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
The flashlight’s beam revealed her son’s small form. Wedged under the table in a small hole where the concrete had broken away from the wall, Davy lay curled in a fetal position, his thumb in his mouth. His favorite book, The Tale of Three Trees by Angela Hunt, was clutched against his chest. Right now he looked even younger than his four years. Bree reached out and touched his face. “Hey, pumpkin, found you. You ready to quit playing hide-and-seek and get back to bed?” It was all she could do to keep her voice light.
Davy blinked slowly and pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Mommy,” he said. “I’m thirsty.”
“Well, come on out from there and I’ll get you a drink of juice.” She shoved the table out of the way then scooped him into her arms and held him tightly. She could feel his heart beating as rapidly as hers.
He buried his face against her neck. “I was trying to find you, Mommy. But she wouldn’t let me go.”
Davy never called the woman who found him after the plane crash by her real name, Rachel. It was always “her” or “she.” Bree stroked his damp hair. “You’re safe now, pumpkin.”
The doctor said it was very important not to let him know how his night wanderings upset her. They more than upset her. They took her back to the terrible year she and Samson had spent searching for the plane wreckage and his body.
Instead, a wonderful miracle had awaited her, but the trauma of separat
ion had scarred them both. She clutched her son more tightly until he stirred restlessly. “Let’s get you upstairs,” she said with a cheeriness she didn’t feel.
She snapped her fingers at Samson, but the dog was busy scratching at the hole Davy had burrowed into. “Come on, Samson. It’s late.”
She started toward the steps, but still the dog didn’t follow. Frowning, she watched Samson. As one of the best search-and-rescue dogs in the country, he could find a flea in a haystack. Right now he was acting as if he was on a mission. He whined and scratched at the wall again.
Bree flicked on the flashlight and shone it on the open hole. The beam revealed a bigger space than she had originally perceived. What was back there that had Samson so upset? He growled and dug tenaciously.
The flashlight’s beam flickered, and she turned it off. “Come on, Samson. We’ll see what’s back there tomorrow.” Still holding Davy in one arm, she reached down and tugged at the dog’s collar. He ceased digging reluctantly, then followed her up the stairs. She made a mental note to call Kade tomorrow and have him help her take a look.
Julia Child’s gravelly voice was enough to compete with fingernails on a chalkboard, but Bree didn’t notice, so intent was she on the woman’s instructions. His night terror of just hours before forgotten, Davy sat on the bar stool, his thin legs swinging and his gaze on his mother as she watched Julia on a small kitchen television mounted under the cabinets. Floury hand prints marked Bree’s jeans, but she would change into a clean pair of slacks before dinner.
Samson lay on the floor in a patch of sunshine streaming through the kitchen window. The Snow King had tightened his grip on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Outside the Nichollses’ lighthouse home, thick floes of ice floated in Lake Superior like great white whales stretching in the morning sun. Spring’s gentle touch would wrest the U.P. from winter’s clutches in a few more weeks.
Bree kept stealing glances outside as she worked. She loved Rock Harbor, Michigan. Small but quaint, it perched along Lake Superior with the water to its west and massive stretches of North Woods surrounding the rest of the small town. Good people lived here, many from Finnish stock, hardy and sometimes painfully honest. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now.
