TERRY LYNN THOMAS grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, which explains her love of foggy beaches and Gothic mysteries. When her husband promised to buy Terry a horse and the time to write if she moved to Mississippi with him, she jumped at the chance. Although she had written several novels and screenplays prior to 2006, after she relocated to the South she set out to write in earnest and has never looked back.
Terry Lynn writes the Sarah Bennett Mysteries, set on the California coast during the 1940s, which feature a misunderstood medium in love with a spy. The Drowned Woman is a recipient of the IndieBRAG Medallion. She also writes the Cat Carlisle Mysteries, set in Britain during World War II. The first book in this series, The Silent Woman, came out in April 2018 and has since become a USA Today bestseller. When she’s not writing, you can find Terry Lynn riding her horse, walking in the woods with her dogs, or visiting old cemeteries in search of story ideas.
‘Intriguing and page-turning’
‘I really enjoyed this fascinating historical thriller’
‘An absorbing novel’
‘A marvellous historical suspense that had me engrossed from the start’
‘I read it in one sitting’
‘A fabulous page turning, mildly paranormal whodunnit’
‘A good read, difficult to put down!’
‘Brilliant! Thoroughly enjoyable read’
‘I look forward to reading the next in the series’
‘A real page turner!’
The Drowned Woman
The Silent Woman
The Family Secret
The House of Secrets
TERRY LYNN THOMAS
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019
Copyright © Terry Lynn Thomas 2019
Terry Lynn Thomas asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008328894
Version: 2019-02-06
For Bonnie Tombaugh. Always missed. Never forgotten.
Prologue
I knew loving Zeke could be dangerous …
Within seconds, strong arms reached around me from behind, encircling my waist. I held fast to my hat with one hand and clutched my purse with the other as the man lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of sugar. He knocked the hat out of my hand, and I watched, unable to do anything, as it blew away on a gust of the March wind.
The Viking hauled me to the waiting car. He opened the rear passenger door and threw me onto the smooth leather seat with such force that I slid across it and hit the door on the opposite side. The giant stayed outside the car, leaning on the car, trapping me. I sat up and pulled my skirt back down over my legs. My purse had fallen to the floor, its contents scattered everywhere.
‘Collect your things. Be quick about it.’
The fat man who sat across from me expected me to obey. I almost defied him. A quick glance at the Viking, who had pushed away from the car door, changed my mind. With shaking hands, I stuffed my belongings back into my purse. I dropped my lipstick. It slid under the seat.
‘Bit of a klutz.’ The man who sat across from me had jowls like a bulldog and soulless eyes.
‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.’
‘No. I know who you are, Miss Bennett. Your boyfriend has something of mine.’
The weeping started when the foreman read the ‘not guilty’ verdict.
The sobs played like background music as I sat numb, unable to fathom how my adoptive father, Jack Bennett, had got away with so many crimes. I remained in my seat as the audience in the gallery, the jury, the judge, and, finally, the attorneys filed out of the courtroom, their expressions running the gambit from pity to loathing and all the emotions in between.