Dark Hearts. Sharon Sala
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Some lies never stay buried...
Betsy Jakes was having nightmares, nightmares that could solve a decades-old mystery. And for someone in her small town, that meant she had to die.
When Sam Jakes returns home to help his brother solve their mother’s murder, two things shake him to the core. This crime is clearly the work of a serial killer who has struck twice before. And...Lainey Pickett is still in town. The woman he walked away from without an explanation years ago has just walked back into his life. She still holds a grudge—and his heart.
As Sam digs deeper into the murders and thirty-year-old secrets begin to emerge, he finds himself racing against time not only to catch a killer but to keep Lainey, the only woman he’ll ever love, from falling victim, too.
Praise for the novels of Sharon Sala
“Sala is a master at telling a story that is both romantic and suspenseful.... With this amazing story, Sala proves why she is one of the best writers in the genre.”
—RT Book Reviews on Wild Hearts
“Skillfully balancing suspense and romance, Sala gives readers a nonstop breath-holding adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly on Going Once
“Vivid, gripping...this thriller keeps the pages turning.”
—Library Journal on Torn Apart
“Sala’s 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
Dark Hearts
Sharon Sala
It’s never too late to make amends for a mistake. You can’t change the outcome, but acknowledging what you’ve done is the first step in helping yourself to heal.
I am dedicating this book to people who have learned how to let go of what they did wrong. I’m sure the list is long, and since being first seems to intimidate a lot of people, I will volunteer to add my name first.
My name is Sharon.
I learned to let go.
Contents
Praise for the novels of Sharon Sala
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Epilogue
It was raining in Atlanta—what locals called a toad strangler—with water rushing through the streets and into gutters, taking dirt and garbage with it, flowing down into the sewers like shit being flushed down someone’s toilet.
Sam Jakes had an apartment in downtown Atlanta, in a building that catered to high-end renters with expensive tastes. He hadn’t chosen it because he loved the high life, but because the security factor was second to none. He also liked it for the anonymity it provided for the people who lived there. No names on the mailboxes, just apartment numbers, and no public listings anywhere on site. He’d made enemies running Ranger Investigations, uncovering other people’s secrets and lies. He didn’t want them following him home.
Sam hadn’t always been a loner. Growing up, he had been as normal and fun loving as any young boy could be. He hunted the mountain behind the family farm outside Mystic, West Virginia, and fished in the rivers. He loved football and pork chops with his mama’s cream gravy, and as he grew older he’d learned to love Lainey Pickett most of all. Then two planes flew into the World Trade Center and changed his life. Instead of beginning his freshman year of college, he’d enlisted in the army and gone to war.
After his second tour of duty he’d become a bomb tech, learning to defuse everything the enemy could construct, and then went back to war. Nine months later he came home in pieces, burned over half his body and with PTSD so bad that he didn’t turn on the ringer for his cell phone for three months. When he could move without screaming, he changed the ringtone to the opening notes of “Amazing Grace,” and when the hospital finally released him, he moved into an apartment without telling anyone where he was. He didn’t want his family camped out on his doorstep, bemoaning his condition or treating him like an invalid.
It took close to a year for the burns to completely heal and for him to get mobile enough to go through rehab. It took even more time for him to accept himself. His family came to see him once he let them know where he was, but he wouldn’t go home. In his mind, Sam Jakes from Mystic, West Virginia, was dead and buried in the sands of Afghanistan, which meant Lainey Pickett