Betrayed at tumble lake, p.1
Betrayed at Tumble Lake, page 1
Betrayed at Tumble Lake
Book 3 of the Tumble Lake Thriller series
Copyright © 2023 Shirley Spain
All Rights Reserved
http://www.shirleyaspain.com
ShirleyASpainAuthor@yahoo.com
https://facebook.com/authorshirleyspain
This book is a work of fiction.
The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Thank You from Shirley
Quote – Lt. Joe Kenda
Prologue
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
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Thank You for Reading Betrayed at Tumble Lake
About the Author
Sample Deceived at Tumble Lake
Books by Shirley Spain
Dedication
For MY Charlie.
Acknowledgements
Writing, though seemingly a solitary task, actually requires the support of many.
My wonderful husband, Curtis, is my biggest fan, an amazing content editor, and will gladly make dinner or vacuum the house to free up more time for me to write. I could not be living my dream as an author were it not for him.
To my beta readers, thank you for catching all those goofy typos and missing words. You’re THE BEST.
And to the magnificent readers who send me delightful emails and write glowing book reviews, I can’t thank you enough. You’re first-class.
I write because writing is my passion. I write to entertain. I write for YOU!
I am blessed and deeply humbled to have so many wonderful people in my life who accept me and love me despite my quirkiness. Hugs of appreciation to all of you.
Shirley
Thank You!
With the thousands of terrific authors in the world and literally millions of books to choose from, I am honored and sincerely grateful you have chosen Betrayed at Tumble Lake for your reading pleasure.
No matter if you discovered this novel based on the recommendation of a friend, or if you’re a fan of my other books, or if you simply happened to be perusing selections and found the story description intriguing, THANK YOU for purchasing this book. Your support is appreciated... after all, I write for readers, like you!
I wish you a killer-good entertainment experience and hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Happy thriller reading,
Shirley
P.S. Wanna FREE ebook? (Or two, or three?) I invite you to join my Readers’ Club to receive a FREE ebook copy of my stand-along thriller, Forever Breathless. Please visit my website to claim your FREE copy today and learn about my other FREE Shirley Spain novels.
Website: http://www.shirleyaspain.com/
Email: ShirleyASpainAuthor@yahoo.com
Facebook: https://facebook.com/authorshirleyspain
Love is blind they say... but it can also be dangerous. —Lt. Joe Kenda
Prologue
The Threat.
Saturday 9:17 a.m.
“What!” Panic consumed Louise.
“You heard me,” said the robotic voice. In the background, a dog yowled in pain.
“No. God, please no!” She fired up the Escalade, switched her phone to the SUV, threw the gear into reverse, and rocketed down the long, narrow driveway, gravel pelting the undercarriage.
“You killed him,” the mechanical voice blared through the SUV’s speakers.
“Stop! Please don’t hurt him.” She mashed the gas pedal to the floor.
The Escalade’s powerful V-8 engine roared into overdrive. The torque threw her back into the seat like an airplane speeding down the runway to take flight. She flew onto Main Street, passing Detective Poulson and Police Chief Frampton headed toward Hank Ratcliff’s house where she was supposed to be waiting for them.
“I’ll be home in twenty minutes. That’s where you are, right… at my home? What about Jason?”
“His blood is on your hands, too. You caused this, Miss Louise. ”
Both hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles blanched, fear clawed her spine.
“I told you what would happen if you didn’t forget about the map.”
“Stop. Please.” Louise erupted into tears at the sound of another pitiful yelp. “Ben’s an innocent animal and Jason had nothing to do with this. If you want to torture someone, torture me.”
“That’s exactly what I am doing, you dumb bitch.” He let loose a maniacal cackle. “You were warned, but refused to listen. Time to say goodbye to your precious Ben.”
“Please, I beg you—”
A god-awful thud followed by eerie silence blasted through the speakers.
“Nooooo!” Screaming in hysteria, tears blinding her, Louise sped through the winding canyon. Her breaths short, fast. Couldn’t breathe. Vision blurred. Her arms and legs felt like cement blocks.
Limbs frozen, heart about to pound out of her chest, lungs unable to fill with oxygen, Louise lost control of the Escalade.
The SUV veered off the road. Its fast-spinning wheels hit the soft shoulder, flipping the massive vehicle onto its side, the momentum causing it to tumble down the steep embankment toward the sheer drop off of a five-hundred-foot cliff.
Chapter One
Three Days Earlier.
Wednesday Evening.
The six members of the Town Days committee huddled around the modest conference room table at City Hall. Louise provided coffee, sodas, and a tray of Jen’s freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from the mini diner in the Tumble Lake Trading Post.
“It’s the middle of July,” Stella Morrow said with a huff of disgust. “In all my years serving on the Town Days committee, I never remember us starting in mid-July to plan our September festival.”
“In all the years I’ve served as Tumble Lake’s Mayor,” Louise said, “I never remember us having to deal with so many murders in such a short time.” She shuddered thinking of the young woman the Jones Brothers murdered in the name of novel research and a few weeks later the Barrs killing three of their own.
“Don’t forget all that Lou’s been through related to those murders,” Rachel Winger said, sticking up for her aunt. “The killers of that writer attacked Lou in her house. Not long after that, the Barrs kidnapped her.”
Stella elongated her neck and raised her chin. “You don’t need to get snippy. Everyone knows what Lou’s been through. I was just saying we haven’t got much time to plan our annual event and I’m concerned.”
“Lou and Rachel have a valid point,” Police Chief Pete Frampton said with a frown. “Over the past few months, some of us have been forced to deal with more pressing issues than planning a party.”
“A party?” Stella’s voice raised in tone and volume. “This is a community event. People come from Tumble City and Salt Lake to celebrate our Town Days.” She crossed her arms under her voluminous breasts. “We usually have our first planning meeting in May. June at the latest. Here it is the middle of July. Time is ticking away. It would be a downright shame if it appeared Town Days was thrown together last minute.”
“I agree people come from miles around for our Town Days and we don’t want to disappoint anyone,” Fire Chief Milt Tumble said, his voice calm. “But I don’t think we need to panic.”
“I wasn’t panicking,” Stella said, defending herself.
“Since this ain’t our first rodeo,” Milt said, “I think eight weeks to plan Town Days is plenty of time.” He picked up his copy of last year’s flier everyone had received from Louise and waved it in the air. “Everything’s right here. We make a few minor changes and do the same thing this year that we did last year.” He chuckled. “That’s pretty much what we’ve done every other year.”
“Milt has an excellent point, Stella.” Preacher Timothy Morrow nodded at his wife sitting across from him. “You’re overreacting.”
Stella’s face lit up, her bright red lipstick-painted lips disappearing into her glowing br
“You have a deep passion for our Town Days, Stella, for which I am greatly appreciative.” Louise smiled at Stella, wanting to lessen her embarrassment. Preacher Timothy could be a self-righteous jerk. For that fact, Stella could be too, especially when it came to bragging about her sons, Burl and Earl. Nonetheless, despite Stella’s quirks, Louise liked Stella. Considered her more than a town resident and a trading post employee. Stella was a friend.
“If you don’t mind, I have things to do, so let’s get this meeting going,” Preacher Timothy said, glancing at his watch.
“We all have things to do, Tim,” Louise said. Rare were the times when anyone called him Tim. Preacher Timothy was how he preferred to be addressed. Of course, Louise knew that and said it because she knew it would irk him.
As predicted, he bristled at her lack of addressing him as Preacher Timothy, a title he gave himself twenty years ago.
Milt chuckled.
“Ahem.” Preacher Timothy cleared his throat as he consulted the map on the back of the flier. “Our annual parade will start at the other end of town on Big Pine Road.” He pointed in the direction as he spoke. “Turn onto Main Street and end at the trailhead across from Lou’s store.” He focused on Louise. “Are you willing to donate gift cards to your trading post again this year?”
“Have I ever not provided gift cards?” Louise snapped, Preacher Timothy already on her nerves more than usual.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Preacher Timothy flashed a saccharin smile and nodded at Louise. “And, as I have always done, I shall donate the trophies to go along with those gift cards.”
Louise rolled her eyes. Any opportunity Tim had to grandstand, he took it.
Ben, lying beside Louise’s chair, looked up at her, as if concurring with her eyeball roll. For whatever reason, Ben never liked Preacher Timothy. Perhaps because Louise wasn’t all that fond of the man herself, and Ben picked up her vibes. Then again, most dogs have an innate ability to read character.
“It’s too bad my boys are in Italy.” Stella beamed a pride-filled smile. “I’m sure since they’re such successful entrepreneurs, they’d donate a large cash prize.” Was Stella trying to one up her husband’s bragging? If so, mission accomplished.
Group eyeball roll.
Chief Frampton raised his hand. “Sam said he’ll donate the ice cream again this year for the eating contest. As usual, we’ll credit the brain freezes courtesy of Tumble Lake Auto and RV Repair.”
Everyone laughed.
“I’ll take care of that trophy too,” Preacher Timothy said. “Unless anyone objects, it will be an ice cream cone with three scoops of ice cream on top, all painted in gold and resting on a wooden base hand-carved by yours truly.”
“In other words, the traditional trophy,” Milt said.
“The three scoop gold ice cream cone may be the same, but I design a new base each year.”
“Sounds good.” The Chief nodded and thanked the Preacher.
“Rachel and I have everything arranged for the Ms. Tumble Lake auditions,” Stella said. “We have three applicants this year. Lindie Wilson—Sam and Roxy’s daughter,” she said as if no one knew the teenager, “will show off some of her creative knitting projects. She mentioned a Lone Ranger mask and outfit she made for her mother’s horse. Depending on our theme this year, that may be her entry in the parade.”
“Last year Lindie dressed up the horse like a fire-breathing dragon,” Milt said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she wins Best in Parade again this year, no matter what she enters.”
“Brittney Finkle—Marv and Wreatha’s daughter—will showcase her cupcake baking and decorating skills.”
Milt made a yummy sound. “Judges get to sample the cupcakes, don’t we?”
“Absolutely,” Chief Frampton said, also a judge.
Stella exhaled another of her huffs of disgust. Not sure if it was in response to the cupcake-eating comment or a preface for what she was about to say next. After she said it, the latter was obvious. “Our third applicant is Catherine Barr.”
Eyebrows raised. No explanation of Catherine’s parents required. The young woman was born into the Barr clan who owned half of the Tumble Lake mountainside and who were notorious for clandestine dealings. Not to mention the recent killing of three of their own, including Porter, the Barr patriarch. Three of his sons, Morton, Hyrum, and Daniel, were on the lam for murdering their eldest brother and a cousin from Tennessee.
“She’s going to sing and play the guitar.”
“Catherine has the voice of an angel,” Rachel said in the girl’s defense.
Preacher Timothy cleared his throat again. “Speaking of the Barrs, since Porter is gone and his sons are on the run from the law, I guess that means the Barr Brewery is defunct, which will disappoint a lot of people.”
Louise shook her head. “Barr Brewery is alive and well. Norma Rae said the family will handle the booth.”
“Does she understand none of their hordes of kids can work at the booth?” Preacher Timothy raised his voice. “No one under the legal age to consume alcohol, which is 21, can sell beer.”
Chief Frampton nodded, looking at Louise for a response.
“Yes, Norma Rae knows that, Tim.”
He jerked his head back at the second time Louise had failed to address him as Preacher Timothy.
“That about wraps it up, doesn’t it?” Milt shifted in his chair, eager to leave the meeting.
“No. We still need a theme for the parade.” Stella wiggled her brows. “And I have a doozy of an idea.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Are you ready…?” She tapped her hand over her mouth and let out a little laugh. “The Tumble Lake Killers. You know, because of all the murders we’ve had.”
Mouths gaped.
The air soured.
Stella mashed up her face and tossed her hands in the air. “It was a joke.”
Chief Frampton frowned. “No one’s laughing, Stella.”
“Last year the theme was Tumble Lake Fired Up,” Rachel said, her perky tone lightening the mood. “Why not the opposite this year, Tumble Lake Chilled?”
“Brilliant.” Louise eyed each member of the committee. “All in favorite say, aye.”
With no nays, Rachel’s idea was adopted as the parade theme.
“Then if no one objects, I’ll design a flier and get them printed,” Rachel said.
“That would be lovely.” Louise smiled at Rachel, who she considered more of a daughter than Tom’s niece.
“What about the naming of the newspaper? How many entries have you received?” Stella eyed Rachel.
“You know I’m keeping the newspaper entries a secret until Friday.”
“You’re keeping a secret?” Milt laughed. “That’s a first.”
Rachel pulled a face. “Ha-ha.”
Louise checked her phone for the time. 8:38. “I’d like to get home before dark to avoid the possibility of hitting a deer in the canyon. Does anyone have anything that can’t wait until our meeting next week?”
“No.” Milt shook his head. “I think we have things under control.” He eyed the other committee members. “Then I move this meeting be adjourned.”
“I second that.” Rachel raised her hand to adjourn the meeting. “And I’ll clean up. There are a few of Jen’s chocolate chip cookies left if anyone wants to take them home.”
“Thanks. My kids love ‘em.” Chief Frampton stacked the remaining cookies on a napkin as everyone exchanged goodbyes and well-wishes.
Chapter Two
The Discovery.
Thursday.
Louise inhaled a lungful of the crisp morning air. “It feels good to take a morning walk again.” She strolled along the Tumble Lake trail with her canine companion, Ben. Pine trees seasoned the air. Songbirds welcomed the new day. Dew-kissed wild flowers and tall green grasses glistened in the warming sun.
“It’s been too long, Tom,” she said to the life-sized bronze statue of her late husband as she settled onto the memorial bench. “I have a lot to tell you on this For the Thrill of It Thursday. But I have nothing thrilling planned, which suits me fine.” She exhaled a long breath. “The insanity of weekend warriors invading Tumble Lake for the Fourth of July holiday didn’t happen this year. Sure, we were busy, but nothing like years past.”
