Synopsis

He stalks her wherever she goes, but can she afford not to continue the search?

On the final leg of her journey to deliver justice to the home invader to killed her parents and put her in a coma, Kayla arrives in Australia under duress. She knows who killed her parents and why, and now she fears he’ll get to her, her grandmother, and Martin before she’s able to find the priceless gem he claims her parents stole. But she knows better.

What she finds in Australia cringes her, but will it gives her the evidence she needs to take down her stalker? It provides yet another clue that takes her back to the U.S.

But will she get there in time to save herself, her grandmother, and the man she loves?

To find out, buy this bone-chilling final installment, book 3 in the Kayla Walsh Mystery Suspense trilogy.

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Excerpt

Kayla figured this was her last chance to change her mind about going on this dangerous trip. Was this really her only option for getting her life back? If she jumped out, she could get back to the U.S. and follow up other clues. Yves knew her family’s route and could follow these leads. But he didn’t know where they’d buried the souvenirs. Vincent would never leave them alone, not without getting the diamond.

She let her hand fall from the handle, vowing to emerge from the Australian Outback whole. She owed it to her parents, to Nana and Martin, but most of all to herself, to complete the mission.

After a few miles, Yves turned right onto an unpaved road with an endless stretch of red dirt ahead. Heat shimmered from the hot desert floor.

They’d spent five hours on that bumpy road, and Kayla’s insides felt as if they’d been shaken out when Yves slid a photo from the manila envelope toward her. “We’re here.” He stopped at an empty parking area near the face of a cliff. “We’ll need to walk the rest of the way.”

Within minutes, Kayla emerged from a narrow gap in the cliff and smiled at the red walls rimming a lush oasis. “We took pictures on that rock.” She pointed to a viewing area overlooking the two waterfalls. “We swam in that pool.” She gestured in the opposite direction of the rock.

While Yves read a sign about freshwater crocs being less aggressive than salties, emptiness and guilt again filled Kayla. If only she’d known that was to be her last vacation with her parents.

She shaded the sun from her eyes and stared at one of the two waterfalls. She could have sworn the rocks behind one morphed into Grandmother Kingfisher’s face. The same thing happened when she’d been there before.

“This gorge has absorbed the spirituality of my people,” Willa had explained when Kayla described the experience. “Your Cherokee grandmother must want to tell you something.”

And now, Kayla silently asked her grandmother what she wanted Kayla to know. As always, she got no response; the vision disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

She ran down the rocky hillside, then stood beside a crystalline pool at the base of the farthest waterfall. “We buried the bird figurine here, but everything has changed.”

She removed her shoes and socks and rolled up her pant legs. Knee deep in the pool, she dipped water onto her arms and face while gazing at the waterfall to wait for Grandmother to guide her. Nothing happened, so Kayla waded into the cascade.

Cold water bathed her head and shoulders, but she felt warm all over as she remembered doing that with her family. Mom and Dad had splashed each other and finally convinced Kayla to join in the fun. When this nightmare was over, she hoped to find the carefree Kayla again.

Behind the waterfall, she knelt to pick up the rock she had placed over the figurine. When it wasn’t there, pangs of desperation welled inside her. Did she remember wrong? She backed out. Looked around. “Let me see that photo.”

She and Yves compared the markers.

“Either someone took it, or it sank into the mud over the years,” Yves said.

“It can’t be gone.” An urgent need to find the figurine drove her back under the waterfall. She would never find her happy, fun-loving self if she didn’t unearth that statue.

She dug with her fingers. Six inches. Eight inches. Her fingers hit the figurine, cold and hard. “There it is!”

About the Author

Karen Randau authors fast-paced stories with intricate plots, lots of action, and a dash of romance told from the point of view of a female amateur sleuth. She lives in the mountains of Arizona with her multi-generational family.

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