Synopsis

Love and danger spar in this thrilling romantic suspense novel in which hands push Marie Jessica (“MJ”) Goodrich from a rural roadway into an icy creek. The clock is ticking for her pleading friend on the other side of the ravine.

Running from flashbacks of a life-altering attack in Afghanistan, MJ takes refuge with her mother, managing Peach Blossom Orchard. But peace is elusive in a rural Oklahoma town full of secrets.

After losing his wife and children in a fatal car crash, Josh Rivers doubts he deserves a second chance at love. He can’t believe his bad luck when MJ, the woman who plagues the nightmares of his military service in Afghanistan, shows up in his hometown. She claims a driver ran down and abducted her friend Kelsey. Frustrated with the county sheriff’s investigation, MJ and Josh partner to follow clues that lead to a kidnapper who demands a bizarre ransom.

With danger increasing for everyone MJ loves, will the clock run out before they solve the mystery? Find out how MJ and Josh—swirling in a whirlwind of mystery and suspense—lean on their mutual faith to find answers, courage, forgiveness, healing … and wholesome romance.

If you like to read Christy Barritt and Colleen Coble, you’ll love Into the Fog, a keep-you-up-at-night clean romantic suspense novel that launches the Peach Blossom Orchard series.

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Excerpt

The sight of an opaque wall of fog stopped her legs and tightened her neck muscles. We could get lost in there. Fall off the bridge into the creek. She shuddered, massaged the scar on her abdomen, circled her head to loosen the muscles.

She hadn’t realized the town of Peach Blossom experienced such unsettling weather when she moved from Phoenix last month. Tornadoes, yes, but not impenetrable fog.

Her mother’s cellar promised protection from tornadoes. This kind of fog was just… well, it felt like a colony of killer bees swarmed inside her stomach. That reminded her to find someone to help move the bees from the attic to the orchard to pollinate the trees rather than buzz her awake every morning.

Another glimpse of the murkiness that obscured the bridge increased her tension. Kneading the scar didn’t help, so she shifted from worrying about fog and Africanized bees to stretching exercises. She’d learned not to let her muscles seize up when she served in Afghanistan with the Army Rangers a few years back, the worst and the best time of her life.

The thought almost had her grabbing the abdominal scar again. Almost. She needed to break that habit now that she was making a new life for herself.

With a deep breath, she stood tall on her right leg—all five-feet-six-inches of her—and stiffened her core, placed her hands on her hips, raised her left leg at a ninety-degree angle. “Rotate out,” her physical therapist had instructed while she recovered at Walter Reed Hospital. “Draw a circle in the air with your knee.”

Having repeated the exercise on both legs, still without Kelsey, she moved on to lunging stretches with a side bend, her dark ponytail slapping her face, wisps sticking to her lip balm. Engrossed in how good it felt to stretch her hips, glutes, and hamstrings, she startled when Kelsey stopped smack-dab in front of her and said, “Sorry I’m late.”

The woman’s red puffy eyes didn’t match her chipper tone.

MJ recognized Kelsey’s clothes from her last trip to Walmart: purple sports cap, a purple long sleeve top, and black capri running pants with a purple stripe down the side. Kelsey always matched. Unlike MJ, who straightened her orange running top over the phone wedged into the waistband of her blue running capris.

Kelsey rolled her head before draping a manicured hand on top to stretch her neck to the left, then to the right. “It’s been a rough morning. Ghosts from days past.” She aimed her face upward and sniffed the air, forcing a smile that showed even white teeth.

“I love Oklahoma, don’t you? Your mom’s orchard smells so good.”

MJ grinned, her chest puffing with pride about her mother’s business.

This could be an opportunity to find out where Kelsey lived, giving MJ someone to visit occasionally. She tried yet again to coax the info out of Kelsey. “It sure does. You’re not even a little out of breath when you get here, so I assume you don’t live far. Can you smell it from your house?”

“Nice try. Like I’ve said before, I don’t tell people where I live.” Annoyance had sharpened Kelsey’s tone. “But since I’ve been running this route ever since I arrived in Peach Blossom a few months ago, the distance is easy for me. Having someone to run with is an answer to prayer.”

MJ smiled but had to squelch the jealousy of God answering someone else’s prayers when he couldn’t bother with hers.

With her first step to the left, MJ again grimaced at the fog. She glanced at the less soupy air behind them and hoped she could talk Kelsey into changing their usual route.

“You must be tired of going the same way every day.” MJ tried to ease the anxiety in her voice. “What do you say about going that way instead? There’s a dirt lane I’ve been wanting to explore.”

Something sparked in Kelsey’s eyes that looked as uneasy as MJ felt. “I’ve been that way. Never, never again.” She took off toward the bridge—and the stomach rumbling fog in their tiny farming community outside Tahlequah, the home of the Cherokee Nation.

MJ hurried to catch up to her mysterious friend. “What’s down there that you didn’t like?”

“Nothing I want to talk about.” Kelsey picked up her pace.

They settled into a steady, if not rushed, rhythm down the middle of the road since they heard no cars and rarely saw them that early. MJ tried again for a more personal connection.

“Have you met any interesting men since you moved here?”

Kelsey harrumphed. “I’ve met men, sure. I have no interest, not because I don’t like men, but now isn’t the right time for a relationship or dating. You?”

“Nah. I’ve stayed away from men since …” She didn’t know how to describe what she’d been through or why no man would want her, so she let the sentence hang. Her stint in Afghanistan had ended in tragedy, followed by months of rehab at Walter Reed. Then she had fought for her management spot in the good-old-boys network of a Phoenix bank. Relief had washed over her when her sisters called to announce MJ was the best of the three of them to move to Peach Blossom to help their mother operate her orchard business.

“Since what?” Kelsey’s blond ponytail slapped her prominent cheekbones when she swung her head toward MJ. Her striking green eyes bore into MJ as she waited for an answer.

“Now who’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong?” MJ interrupted the ensuing silence by apologizing. “That was rude. The truth is, I don’t have time for men either. My mom is showing signs of dementia, so I moved here to help handle her peach business, but I’m more of a gofer than a manager. It isn’t a brilliant use for my MBA, but it’s better than what I was doing.”

“Hmm.” Kelsey squinted ahead, returning MJ’s attention to the approaching wall of fog and the possibility of falling off the bridge.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in there.” MJ’s shoulders and gut tightened. She slowed her pace and grabbed Kelsey’s elbow to guide her toward the grass beside the road. “I never saw fog like this in Arizona. Did you experience it wherever you’re from?”

Kelsey shook her arm from MJ’s grasp. “I don’t tell people where I’m from, but I’ve seen plenty of fog. If you’re not used to it, I can see why it might scare you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stretched her long legs and sprinted away.

MJ stopped, confused. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t go.” Despite that, the reprieve eased the stiffness in her neck and shoulders.

Kelsey yelled over her shoulder as she disappeared into the fog. “It’s okay. I’m in the mood to be alone with my thoughts. See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t run in the middle of the road, okay?” An image of the bridge flashed through her brain. “Stay on the grass.”

Kelsey shouted something that MJ didn’t understand.

As she shifted toward the dirt path she’d mentioned to Kelsey, a silver sedan passed, followed by a black tow truck. Seconds later, brakes screeched, a woman screamed, and something crashed against metal.

“Kelsey!” She ran toward the narrow bridge that spanned Kingfisher Creek. “Please, God, don’t let anyone hurt her.” She couldn’t fail another friend. “Please let her have switched to running on the grass beside the road.”

Penetrating the fog, she lost her bearings and tapped her foot to find the grassy area at the edge of the road. Stinky body odor approached from behind. Bony hands clamped her arms like a cold vise and dragged her across the pavement until her legs pumped in mid-air. The fingers let go. Her body took a bumpy roll down a wet slope that knocked the air from her lungs. Grass and pebbles tore her sleeves, skinned her elbows. She tasted blood. Struggled to inhale. Landed in icy water from her knees down. When she tried pushing up, her arms were too weak to hold her.

In the distance, Kelsey pleaded. “No, please. My leg…” Something muffled her next words.

Blackness moved into the edges of MJ’s vision. Far-off male voices echoed gibberish. She wanted to yell to Kelsey that everything would be okay, but she knew nothing was okay.

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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