Secrets in the Land E-Book

Kari Kilgore

• Herausgeber: Spiral Publishing, Ltd.
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Mark Hersch’s life changed for the better when he met Beth Azen. Except for those long drives from Richmond to Hartstown, Virginia, to see her.

Mark jumps at a surprise trip for a routine investigation of a polluted stream, never expecting anything out of the ordinary.

But a bizarre secret from before the town’s founding awaits. 

Can Mark, Beth, and their shared magic solve the deadly mystery before all of Hartstown runs out of time?

An excerpt from Secrets in the Land:
Sometimes, you need to leave the bad things in the past.

Art smiled, but it didn’t get anywhere within a mile of his eyes.

“I have to ask if this is something you’re willing to take on, Mark. I’m not fibbing or lying or anything else when I say I’d understand if you’re not. Whatever’s up there half scared the life out of me. You ever feel that way about a place?”

This time Mark did shiver, and he didn’t try to hide it. Maybe it was time he admitted at least a bit of what he and Beth (and Clina) had actually gotten into back in December.

“Just one time. When we were taking your lost miner’s bones out of that old house pit. I was sure then and I’m more sure now that he dropped the rock that hit Beth on purpose. Thing is, I know in my bones that the rock was really aimed at me.”

Leseprobe

Sometimes, you need to leave the bad things in the past.

Art smiled, but it didn’t get anywhere within a mile of his eyes.

“I have to ask if this is something you’re willing to take on, Mark. I’m not fibbing or lying or anything else when I say I’d understand if you’re not. Whatever’s up there half scared the life out of me. You ever feel that way about a place?”

This time Mark did shiver, and he didn’t try to hide it. Maybe it was time he admitted at least a bit of what he and Beth (and Clina) had actually gotten into back in December.

“Just one time. When we were taking your lost miner’s bones out of that old house pit. I was sure then and I’m more sure now that he dropped the rock that hit Beth on purpose. Thing is, I know in my bones that the rock was really aimed at me.”

To Dallas

For all the love, support, and friendship over the years,

despite a rather unfortunate incident the first time we met.

Secrets in the Land

Book Two of the Voices through Time Series

Kari Kilgore

Spiral Publishing, Ltd.

Chapter 1

Even after a decade of living away and more frequent visits over the last few months, something in Mark Hersch’s shoulders unknotted every time he crossed back over into Boun County, Virginia.

Making the trip for work and not only for a much anticipated visit with Beth Azen, his girlfriend of the past few months, made no difference. Much as he looked forward to a surprise visit with her after too many weeks apart for his taste, this was something more.

Maybe it was the view from the high gap as the road wound through the rugged mountains of his home county. This time of year, the trees up on the distant ridgeline still showed faint pink buds, while the oaks, maples, and poplars that crowded the four lane flashed the vivid pale green of new leaves.

The mountains themselves always looked like rolling ocean waves from up here no matter how much he’d learned over the years about plate tectonics and erosion and exactly how the wild landscape had taken shape.

The deep blue late winter sky looked huge from up here, too, enough that he could see a low line of dark clouds in the distance. Plenty of time left for an early March snow. And the welcome possibility of cuddling with Beth and her sweet hound dog Janie by the wood stove.

Maybe his bone-deep relaxation was due to the quiet, with the constant traffic and noise of Richmond hours behind him. Or the earthy, rich smell of the forest around him coming to life after the long, especially snowy winter. He knew exactly how snowy since he’d slogged through it for quick weekend visits more times than he could count.

The lingering chill against his face when he rolled the window down was well worth it for that first welcome-home breath. The contrast with the vehicle exhaust and overly conditioned indoor air around his city digs had his sinuses singing hallelujah, especially since the pollen frenzy hadn’t really kicked in at the higher elevations yet.

Mark inhaled the fresh mountain air again before he closed the window, shifting into a more comfortable road-trip slouch in the blue Commonwealth of Virginia sedan. He brushed his hand through his more unruly than usual reddish-blond hair and laughed out loud at his strong impulse to shed the strangling tie he’d never quite gotten used to and unbutton his dress shirt.

He did both and immediately felt a whole lot better.

Yeah, it was beautiful here. And while he could finally see the end of the long-distance part of a relationship with a woman he never wanted to be away from for more than a few hours, Mark was twitchy as a schoolboy at the thought of seeing Beth.

But he knew the reaction of his mind, his body, and even his heart had a good bit to do with getting back home.

He glanced at the white cardboard box full of files in the passenger seat and grinned. After thinking and planning and writing and talking about it for years, all at once Mark’s dream project felt close enough to touch.

Each carefully labeled folder in the box stamped with the blue logo for the Department of Mines, Minerals, and Energy was full of his neat handwriting, printed sheets covered with spreadsheet data, and topographical maps he knew as well as the back roads through Boun County. He could call the locations and specifications for all the mining sites old or new throughout the coalfields to mind without a whole lot of effort.

He’d spent the last decade coordinating between the coalfields and the capitol on reclaiming or sometimes re-mining the old sites. The big ones, anyway. The projects that made a real difference and gave a great return for the taxpayer dollar in cleaning up eyesores and giving back flat, usable land in a region that truly needed it.

But Mark’s professional passion—and he knew perfectly well why some of his co-workers changed the word to obsession—was cleaning up waterways long spoiled by mine runoff. Especially the creeks and streams around his family’s home in Hartstown.

He was still amazed at how years of suggesting at least a side focus on the small, unpermitted house pits that kept those tributaries of the bigger rivers fouled had paid off all at once. Well, not exactly all at once, and not without the intervention of meeting Beth and getting to know her unstoppable drive and determination to solve the mystery of a century of tragedy and loss in Hartstown.

More tragedy and heartbreak than any little town should have had to live through.

And of course, the shock, surprise, and delightful acceptance of the unorthodox and particularly Appalachian way Beth had led the way to that solution.

Either way, the positive publicity—for the Commonwealth, Boun County, and Mark’s boss at DMME—generated by the discovery and proper burial of a long-lost miner had accelerated Mark’s timeline considerably.

But he’d still been surprised when Mike Powell had sprung the trip that morning without even a hint of warning. He’d just waved Mark out with a strange twinkle in his eye, and all he would say was a local boy had to investigate this one.

Or at least an Air Force brat who’d grown up coming home to Hartstown for major holidays and summer vacation no matter where he attended school that year.

And maybe a local boy who was head over his fool heels in love enough to take every spare moment he got to make the drive. Powell had suspected Mark would jump at the chance, and he hadn’t been wrong.

Mark hit the turn signal at the green sign that declared the next exit would bring him to Hartstown in seven miles, strangely reluctant to end what had been an unusually pleasant surprise road trip. But now he followed the twisting road over and through the high gap, then down into the close, deep valleys of home.

Besides, if this project went as well as the last few had, his long-held daydream of getting himself assigned to the neglected Boun County field office just might come true sooner than he’d dared hope it would. Before the end of autumn looked likely. Sooner seemed possible.

When he finally drove through the long, sweeping curve from the four-lane to two-lane road that would shortly turn into Hartstown’s Main Street, Mark glanced at his phone long enough to tap the Favorites list. Beth’s lovely smiling face popped up at the very top.

Her low, sexy voice filled the car’s speakers after only one ring.

“Hey there handsome!”

“Hey yourself, gorgeous. How’s the arm holding up?”

She half sighed, half growled. Mark wondered if she had any idea what that did to parts of him best ignored while he was driving.

He knew better than to ask.

“Making me crazy, to tell you the truth. The physical therapy plan seems to be to tear my shoulder all to pieces when all I want to do is get my hand strong again. All those weeks hanging in a sling makes me feel like I have two dumb hands instead of one. I guess I should be thankful the damn brace is finally off.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You just started this week, right?”

Mark grinned when she blew air out through her lips loud enough that he heard it. And once again, the thought of her full, curving lips perked up the horny teenaged boy crouched inside him.

He slowed to twenty-five miles an hour as he got into town, eyes on the squat red brick town hall a few blocks away. The 1980s construction stood out from the surprising number of Hartstown’s beautiful historic buildings that were made of pale gray stone built by immigrants from all over the world. Intricate carvings and decorations as fine as anything in Richmond or anywhere else reflected the pride of those workers a hundred years in their graves.

He and Beth had learned more than anyone would have ever imagined about Boun County’s original settlers—and their graves—back in December.

When she’d broken her arm saving his life inside what had to be one of the whole Southeast’s most mysterious (and honestly, truly haunted) old house coal pits.

The same week she’d captured his heart.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, “be patient and let my shoulder get stronger, let everything finish healing, and all that. I know. Where does our fair Commonwealth have you off to today?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Down 81, up 77. Little jaunt along 19.”

Beth let out her full and joyful laugh, something he knew from about a thousand phone conversations that she hardly ever did in the quiet town hall.

“Andrew Mark Hersch, you are a devious and purely evil man. You’re here?”

“Rolling down Main Street. I would have strolled right in and surprised you, but you forbade me to ever do that again after Valentine’s Day. Upon pain of death, if I remember correctly.”

She made a rude raspberry noise into the phone, particularly effective through the car’s bass speakers, and he heard her call out to someone that she’d be back in a bit.

“Well, I can hardly welcome you back home in the manner you deserve in the middle of the office, can I? Where are you?”

Just as he’d hoped, she pushed open the brown steel front door (still with her hip rather than her right arm) at the same time he pulled into one of the diagonal parking spots a few feet away.

He could tell himself it wouldn’t happen this time all he wanted. Remind himself that he was thirty-six years old and not a punky kid with his first crush.

But dependable as the sun rising in the morning, Mark’s heart sped up, and slow, delicious heat rose in his belly when he saw her.

Curly brown hair lifting in the breeze. Faded blue jeans and his ancient, nearly pink Virginia Tech t-shirt that draped across her tall, slender frame just right. Her arm finally out of the bulky cast and the hard brace she’d worn for too long.

And a huge grin lighting her face and her gorgeous blue eyes, brighter than any sunrise Mark had ever seen.

“I’m right here,” he said before he ended the call and got out.

Two steps for each of them and Beth was finally warm and real and coffee-scented in his arms, grabbing her own wrist and squeezing him hard enough that his road-weary back crackled. He luxuriated in the sensation of both her arms around his body instead of only one for so many weeks.

Her lips brushed his neck and ear on the way to his mouth, sending delightful chills along his arms and legs.

“Now I’m home,” he whispered against her cheek before he kissed her long and proper.

Beth drew back, breathless and laughing, her cheeks flushed.

“You certainly are. And who should I thank for this mid-week treat?”

“Our old buddy Art Steffens, for one. My boss, too. Are you on your usual crazy schedule and haven’t had lunch yet? I bolted out of Richmond in way too much of a hurry to take time to stop.”

She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“As usual, and just in time for our usual. Rayburn’s it is.”

Chapter 2

Mark had never quite figured out what it was about the tiny little Italian place in Hartstown that made it so damn good. Rayburn’s looked like any of the hundreds of similar joints in small towns across the country. Red vinyl booths and Formica tables sat under murals full of scenes straight out of an old movie melodrama about ancient Roman gods and goddesses and their complicated love lives.

But he had to admit the more-vivid-than-life images seemed romantic and wistful rather than amateurish or overdone. Those paintings were more like what he wished he could see in Italy instead of the tourist-packed reality he’d experienced on a trip with his family while his father was stationed in Germany.

Several huge televisions hanging from the ceiling should have destroyed the ambiance of the place, but the volume was almost always muted. On days like today when no big sports game of any kind was available, the sets were tuned to travelogue videos of Rome, Florence, Pompeii, and other spots Mark couldn’t identify.

And the food. Even with all the traveling he’d been lucky enough to do while his Dad was in the Air Force, Mark would happily swear he’d never had a better straight-up pepperoni pizza than the ones they served at Rayburn’s. As always, the second he walked through the door the warm scent of baking yeast crusts and French fries and onions had his stomach growling and ornery.

“So tell me,” Beth said, grabbing Mark’s hands as soon as they managed to scoot into the same booth they’d had the first night they met. “What’s Art got your whole agency stirred up about?”

Mark let go long enough to drain half of his Coke before he answered. The sharp scent was as refreshing as the bubbly bitter sweetness.

“It seems one of the creeks on his land has some unusual contaminant readings since that last heavy rain. Odd things showing up downstream, too.” He paused, shaking his head. “Hang on, my Granny would smack me upside the head for being so rude. How are you today, Clina?”

Beth chuckled as she squeezed his hand. Clina Jane, the ghostly presence who’d managed to get through to Beth back in December, had been the one who led the way into that old house pit. The change in the bad luck that used to hover over Hartstown had been a dramatic turn for the better.

Almost as dramatic as the change in Mark’s life.

He didn’t have to look to know Beth wore a sparkling copper chain around her neck, with a piece of glass about the size of his thumbnail at the end, sealed and outlined with more copper. All that remained of the glass plate negative Clina had used to make contact after decades of trying.

After months and dozens of Clina’s spectral comments, he knew exactly what to expect. And a little boy part of him still jumped when she spoke.

“I reckon I’m doing just fine, young feller. Glad to see you home where you belong. Think you’ll manage to stay around for good this time?”