www.BellaBooks.com
When you shop at Bella, more of your dollars reach the women who write and produce the books you love. Thanks from all of the authors & staff at Bella!
Keep up with Bella! Click here to subscribe to our newsletter.
Table of Contents
Synopsis
Other Bella Books by S. M. Harding
Acknowledgments
Dedication
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
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Synopsis
With their first wedding anniversary just passed, retired Marine Corps Colonel Win Kirkland and Sheriff Sarah Pitt are more in love than ever and making plans to adopt two orphaned girls from Afghanistan. With their most challenging case behind them, the only threat on the horizon seems to be the approaching blizzard. But a much more dangerous storm is about to hit with a force that will exact a terrible toll on Win and Sarah's loved ones, their love and their lives.
A shadowy network has chosen McCrumb County, Indiana, as a testing ground for one of the deadliest threats facing the United States. Their ruthless psychological and physical attacks quickly escalate to murder, but who are these people? And what is their end game? Even Win's former intelligence colleagues seem stumped.
As Win and Sarah risk everything to identify and stop the perpetrators, they are quickly learning that what doesn't kill you… is waiting to try again.
SPEAK IN WINTER CODE is the eagerly awaited sequel to S.M. Harding's best-selling Kirkland/Pitt romantic thrillers I WILL MEET YOU THERE and A WOMAN OF STRONG PURPOSE.
Copyright © 2017 by S. M. Harding
Bella Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 10543
Tallahassee, FL 32302
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper.
First Bella Books Edition 2017
Editor: Cath Walker
Cover Designer: Linda Callaghan
ISBN: 978-1-59493-535-0
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Other Bella Books by S. M. Harding
A Woman of Strong Purpose
I Will Meet You There
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank all the Bella Book gals who do such a wonderful job for me—and Cath Walker, I hope you didn’t pull out all your hair working with me! Thank you for your patience.
I’d also like to thank you readers who make this all possible. I so love sharing the characters of McCrumb County with you and am so grateful you like them too.
Dedication
For all in the LGBT community who have suffered from the rage of “straight” people in so many forms, especially the victims of Pulse in Orlando, Florida—and their friends and families. Perhaps, someday, the hate will end.
The Spirit of Place, IV
The work of winter starts fermenting in my head
how with the hands of a lover or a midwife
to hold back till the time is right
force nothing, be unforced
accept no giant miracles of growth
by counterfeit light
trust roots, allow the days to shrink
give credence to these slender means
wait without sadness and with grave impatience
here in the north where winter has a meaning
where the heaped colors suddenly go ashen
where nothing is promised
learn what an underground journey
has been, might have to be; speak in winter code
let fog, sleet, translate; wind, carry them.
From “The Spirit of Place,” IV, A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far: Poems 1978-1981, Adrienne Rich
Prologue
He stood like a statue of a Civil War hero and remained unmoving as he viewed the fence-lined paddocks before him. The Blue Ridge Mountains rose to the west. He controlled his breathing but he couldn’t control his anger. The wide-planked floor creaked as he turned and walked to the head of the table. He examined each of the ten men who sat stiffly around the long, polished table. “Can any of you tell me how this goddamn disaster happened?”
They looked down at their clean writing pads.
All except one, a trim man with a full head of dark hair shot through with gray. “An unfortunate convergence of circumstances—”
“Specify them.”
“We had no intel that this sheriff had connections to MCIA, none. Nor did we have any idea that Mohan Shamsi stored his arsenal there. He left us quite blind to his movements.”
“No intel is not acceptable, nor is dealing with an arms dealer without knowing his every move.” He turned to the man on his right. “Is McCrumb County on our test list?”
“No sir.”
>
“Put it on the top of the list. Do we have any associates there?”
“No sir.”
“A militia group?”
“Yes sir.” The gray-haired man flipped through his files. “The McCrumb County Rangers. ‘An undisciplined group of loudmouths’ was the description I was given. They’re in our network, but mostly re-post our articles. No incentive of their own.”
“Pull Waterstone from the training camp. Tell him to sniff around, hook up with this group. If there are men there worth training, take them back to camp. Train them. Get eyes on the sheriff and anyone else concerned.” He put his fists on the walnut dining table and glared at each man in turn. “We spent a year and a half and over four million dollars to obtain those weapons. We have nothing to show for that investment. This will not happen again or heads will roll. Your heads, gentlemen.”
That statement was rendered more threatening because it was delivered in a soft Virginia accent.
“One more item. We have found a candidate for the office of president. He is an egotistical rabble-rouser and an imbecile. However, he listens to whispers. Get our media concerns in touch with him.
“We cannot stop now, we cannot postpone. The time is here for revolution.”
Chapter One
Sarah
I watched the snow swirl down outside the window, beautiful in its dance for now. The flames in the fireplace moved to a different song, a different rhythm, as the increasing winds gathered the force of the impending storm.
I’d left work early knowing I’d be on duty when the blizzard hit, directing the McCrumb County Sheriff’s Department to help the fools out on the roads. I also wanted to be home when Win arrived from her teaching job in Bloomington at CELI, a language institute run for the military and spies. Our weekend together at home would be shortened by the snow emergency and with our first wedding anniversary just past, I wanted to be at her side and feel her by mine.
I put another log on the fire and paced from one front window to the other. “Come on, Win, get your beautiful butt home.”
Des, an army-trained Belgian Malinois who in a past life had been named Destroyer, paced beside me. She whined. I went back to the couch and plopped my feet on the finished slab of black walnut that served as a coffee table. She jumped up beside me and I threw my arm around her and let her nuzzle my neck. “Your nose is too cold to be Win, so you better watch yourself.” She snorted.
What a tumultuous year it had been. I’d come out to the county in a newspaper interview with the Greenglen Sentinel for a series Zoe had been doing on marriage equality. The initial responses had crashed both the paper’s website and Facebook page. Twitter had hit national trending. The same old haters were still out there, their vitriol uncontrolled and damn wounding. But I’d been surprised by the support I’d received from unexpected quarters, including some clergy and their congregations.
If those turbulent times hadn’t been enough, Win had proposed adopting Bahar and Dorri, two gorgeous little girls from Afghanistan where she had served multiple tours with MCIA. We discussed it and argued about it. I kept asking how we were going to manage and Win kept saying we could and would. She settled the argument when she’d said, “They have no future there. None.”
Their parents were dead and their extended family stretched very thin to care for them. Win had been sending money, but conditions for the whole family had continued a downward spiral.
Via Skype I’d fallen in love again. I relied on Win to translate the words, but all I really needed to see was how their eyes lit up when they saw her. And how Win’s face softened when she talked with them. What could I say but okay? Win had started the process. We still had issues to iron out like who was going to care for them when Win was in Bloomington. Dad had offered to babysit, excited at the prospect of grandkids when he’d given up hope. We expected them to arrive by early summer. I was scared to death that something awful would happen to them in the interim.
Des barked and I heard Win’s truck coming up the hill. Her headlights flashed across the room and I went to the door to welcome my wife home.
“Salt trucks aren’t out yet,” she said on the porch as she stamped the snow from her boots. She kissed me, then stooped to take off her boots and put them in the boot tray. “You have to go back to work?”
“Yeah. I need to leave before the storm hits. But according to the weather reports, I have about two hours.”
“Enough time for dinner and dessert?” she asked with a wicked smile.
As soon as she had her parka off, I moved into her arms. “Shall we have dessert first?”
* * *
I beat the first squalls of the storm to work by ten minutes and shook the snow off my parka as I entered the station by the back door. As I walked to my office, I saw Dory, our dispatcher, scurrying around with five pencils stuck in her white hair. Disaster time for sure.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked her when she stood still momentarily.
“Stayin’ for the weekend Sarah, ’cause we’re gonna need extra people for dispatch,” she said. “We got food in, most of patrol brought sleepin’ bags. Did you?”
“I’ve got one in my truck, part of my emergency kit.”
“You better go get it in, Sarah, they’re talkin’ a foot an’ a half. Win get back safe from teachin’?”
“Yeah, and she said she didn’t see a salt truck the whole way. I sure hope Roads get their butts in gear or we’re going to have people stranded all over the county.”
“We’ve set up a line with Roads so we know where they are. They ain’t usin’ salt, said it wouldn’t do no good. Trucks are gonna go out when we got six inches.”
“Hell.” After I got my sleeping bag from my truck, I found my dad in my office.
He grinned up at me. “Reckon my electric ain’t gonna last the storm an’ I’m too old to make do. So I come to town.”
“Plus, you thought we might need a few more hands on deck?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” he said with a shrug. “Win get home okay?”
“Yeah. We had time for dinner,” I said as I sank into my chair.
He sat up straighter on the couch and leaned forward. “How’s them little girls? You talk with ’em recent?”
“Tuesday. They have such incredibly beautiful spirits, Dad. I mean, they just emit joy. They make me feel better every time we get to talk with them.”
He grinned. “Can’t wait ’til they get here. Gave up on grandkids a long time ago.”
“So did I when Hugh died.” I’d spent fifteen years in an arid wasteland, lost, until Win had come back into my life to show me spring’s fresh growth.
“You know, I used to worry ’bout Win when she was a kid. Fred was always workin’ an’ Marjorie had her heart set on a little frilly girl after birthin’ them boys,” Dad said with a shake of his head. “Always thought Marjorie was a tad on the cold side to Win.”
I told him how the family had turned their backs on Win when she came out to them. “Fred Junior wouldn’t let Win near her nieces and nephews.”
He shook his head again. “What amazes me is that Win can be such a lovin’ woman with that kinda growin’ up.”
“Maybe we were part of it—she spent a lot of time at our house and you and Mom were always good to her.”
“Twern’t hard, Sarah Anne. We always thought highly of her once she got over her darin’ the boundaries.” He pushed himself off the couch. “You get any more of them anonymous letters?”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. “Maybe the sender’s getting tired of screwing around with me.”
“Doubt it,” Dad said.
Chapter Two
Win
After Sarah left to manage the county’s blizzard, I settled on the couch, put my feet up. Des jumped up, licked my face, then settled and gave a contented grunt. I ran my hand through her thick fur. Wondered how she’d get along with the kids. I thought she’d be a great protector once the bond was made. Th
ey were old enough they wouldn’t pester her.
Never in my life had I thought I’d marry. Ever. Much less dreamed about having kids. I remembered my years in the military, trading my sexual identity for a career. Hookups without any emotional entrapments. When I’d come home, I was a constant flood of jumpy nerves, adrenaline and paranoia.
Finding Emily, my shrink, turned the tide. Finding Sarah in this new context—not just friend but lover—was a miracle.
The phone rang and I looked at the caller ID. Major Laura Wilkins, an MCIA agent who’d come to Indiana to help catch an international arms dealer. Instead, she’d been captured and brutally tortured by Shamsi’s men. She’d be staying in our home except she had an obsessive crush on Sarah.
I answered and I heard her take a deep breath.
“Barry and Linda were supposed to be home three hours ago and they’re still not here, and I’m really worried.”
“The family you’re staying with? I drove in from Bloomington about that time and the roads were messy. Did you try calling them?”
“Of course, but you know how spotty the coverage is around here. They could’ve had a slide-off or broken down or…I’m worried. They understand I don’t like to be alone.”
Part of her own PTSD. Emily was treating her, found her a place to stay with the Browne family. “Have you called the sheriff’s department?”
“No. They wouldn’t understand, Win. They’d think I was some hysterical fool.”
She probably was feeling on the hysterical edge right now. Her healing was slow. “You have a gut feeling about this?”
A long silence. “Yeah,” she said in a small voice. “They’ve been getting threatening letters.”
“About what?”
Another silence. “Me,” Laura said in a whisper.
Speak in Winter Code Page 1