MURDER IN EDEN
Felled by a cowardly shot to the back, Stanton Youngblood has just enough time before he dies to leave a single clue to his killer’s identity: the word Wayne, scrawled in his own blood.
That word means everything to his widow. Leigh Youngblood was once Leigh Wayne, but she left her wealthy family behind thirty years ago when she fell in love with Stanton, a betrayal the Waynes have never forgiven. Now she publicly vows to discover which of her siblings thinks money and power are enough to cover up a murder.
Back in town to find his father’s killer, prodigal son Brody finds his search for justice comes with an unexpected ray of light. He’s loved Talia Champion forever, but when she said she couldn’t marry him, he left town and never looked back. This time it’s Talia who needs him, and it isn’t in him to deny her anything.
But the killer still has a score to settle, and if that means spilling more blood—so much the better.
Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala
“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 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
“Sala’s characters are vivid and engaging.”
—Publishers Weekly on Cut Throat
“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
For some people, family is everything.
They learned early on that nothing on earth matters more than the confidence that comes from knowing you belong—and knowing you are loved.
But there are others who bear the burden
of their blood and spend most of their lives putting permanent distance between themselves and the people with whom they share a name.
I dedicate this book to the people who are wise enough
to find their tribe among a circle of friends and the places life takes them.
To the misfits in all of us.
One
Stanton Youngblood was running for his life, desperate to elude the man behind him. Moving uphill had afforded him the cover he needed, but now the man was catching up and Stanton was lagging from exhaustion. All he kept thinking about was Leigh, getting home to Leigh.
Leigh. Oh God, my sweet Leigh. This can’t be happening. I do not want to die.
Every footstep was an effort now. His side was burning, his legs were shaking, and his lungs felt like they were going to explode. He could actually hear the man crashing through the brush and trees behind him, which meant he was getting closer.
There was no time to turn and look. He knew who was chasing him, and he knew why. This day had been more than thirty years in the making, but he wouldn’t have done anything different. His beautiful Leigh was worth everything.
Even this.
And the moment he thought it, a bullet ripped through his back. The shot was already echoing down the mountain as he began to fall. He had a moment of overwhelming despair, and then everything began happening in slow motion.
The gray squirrel leaping from one tree to another seemed suspended in midair. The flock of birds taking flight from the sound of the gunshot moved like a kite just catching the wind. The flash of sunlight was a laser beam as it came through the forest canopy into his eyes.
And then he was down and his line of sight was the forest floor. Something sharp was poking the side of his face. Breath caught in a sob as a rush of blood flooded his mouth.
Oh God.
He gave in to the inevitable as the pain began to fade. His vision was beginning to blur. He blinked, and as he did, a tiny striped beetle with crab-like pincers came into focus. He watched it crawling on top of a pile of leaves and then saw the tail of a black snake as it slithered away.
A dog howled from somewhere nearby, and another answered, and then another, and he heard the footsteps again. But this time they were running away.
He could no longer feel his legs. He didn’t have enough air in his lungs to call for help. With the last of his life quickly fading, he pushed away the leaves from beneath his outstretched hand and scratched a name into the dirt.
* * *
Leigh Youngblood was in the garden behind her house hoeing weeds from the long rows of green beans. It was a repetitious job that required no thought, so she let her mind wander as she worked, thinking of the life she and Stanton had carved out for themselves on this West Virginia mountain.