Sharon Sala - Blood Trails

SHARON SALA

Blood Trails

ISBN: 978-1-4592-1376-0

BLOOD TRAILS

Copyright 2011 by Sharon Sala

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Praise for the novels of

SHARON SALA

Vivid, gripping
this thriller keeps the pages turning.

Library Journal on Torn Apart

Salas characters are vivid and engaging.

Publishers Weekly on Cut Throat

Sharon Sala is not only a top romance novelist,
she is an inspiration for people everywhere
who wish to live their dreams.

John St. Augustine, host,

Power! Talk Radio WDBC-AM, Michigan

Veteran romance writer Sala lives up to
her reputation with this well-crafted thriller.

Publishers Weekly on Remember Me

[A] well-written, fast-paced ride.

Publishers Weekly on Nine Lives

Perfect entertainment for those looking for
a suspense novel with emotional intensity.

Publishers Weekly on Out of the Dark

Also by Sharon Sala

The Searchers

BLOOD TIES

BLOOD STAINS

The Storm Front Trilogy

SWEPT ASIDE

TORN APART

BLOWN AWAY

THE WARRIOR

BAD PENNY

THE HEALER

CUT THROAT

NINE LIVES

THE CHOSEN

MISSING

WHIPPOORWILL

ON THE EDGE:
Capsized

DARK WATER

OUT OF THE DARK

SNOWFALL

BUTTERFLY

REMEMBER ME

REUNION

SWEET BABY

Originally Published as Dinah McCall

THE RETURN

Look for Sharon Salas next novel
NEXT OF KIN
available February 2012.

It is true that the sins of the father
are often visited upon the child.
We come into this world through pain.
Pain is a constant throughout our lives, whether
from a brief physical pain, an enduring emotional
pain, or a damaged soul that cannot heal.

Having to also endure the shame of someone
elses transgressions is without doubt the hardest,
and the most unfair. Bearing a damaged name is
one pain too manya pain no child should suffer.

I dedicate this story to the innocents,
whose only sin was to carry a name
with a shame not of their making.

Contents

One

Missoula, Montana

T he ranch house was quiettoo quiet. It should have been filled with energy and activityvoices, snippets of conversation and laughter, the scent of something good baking in the oven.

But Andrew Slades death had been the beginning of the end of what had been. There was nothing to be done now but look toward what wasor, in the case of his three daughters, what could be. The revelation hed dropped on them at the reading of his will had torn the family apart.

His oldest daughter, Holly, was the only one of them left at the ranch now, along with Robert Tate, Andrews best friend and ranch foremanand the love of Hollys life.

But RobertBud to his friendsdidnt know about Hollys feelings, and she was so used to keeping them a secret that revealing them now in the midst of so much turmoil didnt seem possible.

Her sisters, Maria and Savannah, were already gone. Theyd jumped into the search for answers to their pasts without hesitation, while Holly had lingered. She couldnt wrap her head around what shed learned without getting sick to her stomach. Even now, when she should have been making travel plans, she was still at the Triple Sstill wavering as to what she should do and replaying the video that had ripped their world apart when theyd gathered in the office of their lawyer, Coleman Rice, and seen it for the first time.

She sat now within the quiet of the family den while a log burned and popped in the fireplace behind her, her gaze fixed on the television, and rewatched the video. As soon as it ended, she played it again. Andrews image and voice were a source of comfort, but at the same time they fed her grief.

Hello, my daughters. Obviously, if youre seeing this, I have passed on. Know that, while I am sorry to be leaving you behind, my faith in God and the knowledge that I will be with my beloved Hannah again is, for me, a cause to rejoice. However, what I have to say to you is something Ive dreaded your entire lives, and Im ashamed to say I chose the easy way out and left it for you to hear after my passing.

Holly held her breath. This time she knew what was coming, but the words were still impossible to absorb.

My darling daughtersyou need to know that I am not really your father, Hannah was not really your mother, nor were any of you ever legally adopted.

Holly jumped when she felt a hand slide across her shoulder, then swallowed past the lump in her throat to keep from crying when she realized it was Bud. Somehow hed come in and she hadnt even heard him.

There is more. You are not sisters.

Holly hit Pause, then clasped Buds hand as she turned around. Did you need me?

A dozen thoughts of what he might say slid through Buds mind, but the one that mattered most was one hed never said. Yes, he needed her: in his heart, in his life, in his bedforever. Not really, honey. I just came in to see if you were okay.

Hollys shoulders slumped. Obviously Im not, or I wouldnt still be wallowing in this.

Bud slid onto the couch beside her and took her hand.

Let it play out and then well talk.

Holly hit Play. Andrews voice filled the silence between them.

By now, I suspect your grief at my passing has turned to shockeven anger. I understand. But what you three need to understand isI believed with every fiber of my being that, as I was following my calling as an evangelical preacher, God led me to each of you at a time when you needed me most. There are journals that Ive left with Coleman, one for each of you. Everything I know about your past is in there, along with why your mothers put you in my care.

Maria, you were the first one. You were born Mary Blake, in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Your mother had a hard life. She was, for lack of a better word, an escort at the time of her death. You were four years old when you witnessed her murder. As she lay dying, she begged me to take you and hide you. The details as to how it all happened are in your journal. To my knowledge, her murder was never solved.

Savannah, you are actually Sarah Stewart, from Miami, Florida, and the second child to be given to me. Your mother was dying of cancer and had come to my tent meetings to pray for healing. By then Maria had been with me for nearly six months. You were barely two. You and Maria hit it off immediately when your mother came to hear me preach, and she saw the bond between you two. On the last night of the revival, she came to me in a panic. She and your father were not married, but he had never denied you, and he played an important role in your life. According to her, he was also a member of a very rich, powerful local family, and he had informed them of his plans to marry her. The night she came to me, she was sobbing uncontrollably. Your father had been killed in a car accident early that morning, and already she had received a threat on your life. Aware that she had only weeks to live and no one else to whom she could turn, she begged me to take you and raise you with Maria. So I did. It was then that I began to understand I was being led down this path by a power greater than my own.