Legacy of Fear Read online

  Legacy of Fear

  A. J. McCarthy

  © Copyright A. J. McCarthy 2019

  Black Rose Writing | Texas

  © 2019 by A. J. McCarthy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

  First digital version

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-68433-383-7

  PUBLISHED BY BLACK ROSE WRITING

  www.blackrosewriting.com

  Print edition produced in the United States of America

  Thank you so much for reading one of our A.J. McCarthy’s novels.

  If you enjoyed the experience, please check out our

  recommended title for your next great read!

  Sins of the Fathers by A.J. McCarthy

  “McCarthy has certainly established herself

  as a writing force to be reckoned with.”

  –Authors Reading

  This novel is dedicated to my late mother, whose strength of character and sense of humor inspired myself and many others to forge onwards, despite life’s hardships.

  Acknowledgement

  The town of Clear Point, the setting for this novel, is fictional, but its physical characteristics are based on the exceptionally lovely towns of Tofino and Ucluelet on the western coast of Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Recommended Reading

  Dedication

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Note from the Author

  About the Author

  BRW Info

  Chapter 1

  The whirr of the wheel and the crash of the waves were her musical accompaniments. Through the open window, a breeze carried the scent of salt air, a breeze with no hint of evil or ill-intent to warn her.

  At this late hour, Emily Burton was at her peak, loving to work with a view of the night sky in front of her, knowing the Pacific Ocean rippled, mere steps away.

  Her face tight with concentration, the clay changed shape under her long, slim fingers. A noise startled her, sending the vase-to-be into a crazy, twisting shape. She flicked a glance at Max. He slept like a log at her feet. At ten years old, the black lab’s hearing was not as good as it used to be, certainly not good enough to be relied upon. She flipped the switch on the wheel. As it wound down, she moved to the window and squinted into the darkness.

  Had she seen a human shape beside the tall red cedar tree? Did something move, or was the moonlight teasing her with shifting shadows through the clouds? The noise had sounded like a crack, followed by a loud thump. Had a branch broken and fallen to the ground?

  It was common for wildlife to wander at night. It could be anything as small as a raccoon or as large as a bear. However, Emily knew it was unusual for them to come close to the house. Max’s scent generally kept them away.

  She removed the screen and leaned out the window.

  “Is anyone there?” she yelled. Max roused from his pillow and padded over to stand beside her, like an old soldier who understood his duty.

  There was no response.

  Emily straightened and glanced at her watch. It was close to midnight and breathing life back into the vase was not an option that appealed to her. She cleaned her wheel and supplies before turning off the light. After casting a last quick glance out the window, she headed to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

  Her bare feet were soundless on the dark hardwood floor. She paused by her bed, her hand on the edge of her quilt, as second thoughts assailed her. Max tilted his head when she removed a flashlight from her night table drawer.

  “I’ll be right back. I want to check it out, just in case.”

  The spare bedroom was at the back of the house. Through the window, she shone the light across her backyard and was relieved to see eyes staring back at her. They were all present and accounted for. Nothing else seemed to be disturbed.

  “Everybody’s okay, Max. I think we can sleep easy tonight,” she said, returning to her bedroom. She boosted Max onto the bed before sliding in beside him.

  When she woke the next morning, Emily remembered the noise. A scrap of worry nibbled at her brain. She threw off the covers, tugged on her sweatpants and t-shirt, and encouraged Max to climb off the bed. Behind her, he treaded to the front of the house, but a low growl rumbled from deep inside him as she pulled open the door. Emily’s throat constricted.

  The wooden railing of her steps lay on the ground, twisted and broken. Her porch had seen better days, but she had been certain it was solid. Something larger than a raccoon had damaged it. If it was a bear, she might have more than a railing to worry about.

  She hurried to the north side of her house and slid to a stop in front of the chicken coop. The fence and the building were intact, and the chickens went about their business as usual. It was the same view she had seen the night before.

  “I’ll be back to feed you. Give me a minute.”

  Emily sped past her vegetable garden and, seconds later, reached the goat pen. Molly and Millie bleated a greeting, happy to know they were about to be fed. Their fence stood straight and solid, and they hadn’t been harmed.

  Emily smiled in relief. Whatever crushed her railing the previous night had not disturbed the animals. The cracking of the wood had
undoubtedly scared it away.

  The goats nudged her as she poured some oats into their trough and tossed some hay beside it. She filled their water containers and promised to return to milk them as soon as she had time. First, the chickens needed their feed, and then she would have her own breakfast and coffee.

  With her second mug of caffeine in hand, Emily stood on her porch and gazed toward the woods where she had seen movement the previous night. A gust of piercing wind lifted her shoulder-length brown hair and made her cross her arms over her chest. Her brown-eyed gaze shifted downward, and she surveyed the damage to her steps. She could handle a hammer and saw, she thought, but she would need to pick up some wood. And maybe some bear deterrent. He must be hungry if he had ventured so close to the house.

  An hour later, ready for her day, Emily slammed shut the hatch of her seven-year-old Toyota SUV, helped Max onto the front seat, and headed for Clear Point, a town three kilometers from her house. The route was as familiar to her as her own face, following the shape of the coast, lined on both sides with towering western red cedar trees. Mary’s Point, the store that sold local crafts and delicacies, occupied a place on Main Street between the coffee shop and the bait and tackle store. Emily supplied the shop with a variety of pottery products.

  The tourist season had picked up as April brought the warmer weather. The western side of Vancouver Island in British Columbia drew people who enjoyed the beaches, along with surfing, fishing, and whale-watching. The university students would converge on the town in a couple of weeks, take on jobs in the tourist industry, and use every spare moment to ride the waves. Clear Point would be busy until the fall when it would cater to the retirees who enjoyed the crisp weather and the changing leaves.

  Emily completed her delivery and pulled into her driveway just before noon, parking as close to the porch as possible. She may have been optimistic, but she had stocked up on enough lumber to replace not only the railing but the entire set of steps. It was an ambitious undertaking, but the internet was a wondrous thing. She would find instructions.

  Emily set aside all thoughts of bears and stairs as she returned to her wheel and kiln. The physical labor of manipulating the pieces and of her weekly deep-clean of the workshop relaxed her. This room and its equipment had been the source of her livelihood for six years, ever since she had left the big city and its big-city jobs behind.

  Early evening, she prepared for her nightly run on the beach, which would give her the energy and focus for her creative endeavors. Emily slipped out of her clay-encrusted overalls and replaced them with black, tight-fitting, spandex pants. She donned a light zippered jacket over her t-shirt as a concession to the spring-like temperatures and the bracing wind that rolled off the waves.

  In the old days, Max would have accompanied her when she ran, but he had developed a bad hip. Morning strolls were fine for him, but she had to leave him behind if she wanted to have a good workout, and she needed one after a day spent hunched over a pottery wheel.

  Emily jogged along the well-worn path through the trees down to the beach. Her sneakers thumped against the hard-packed sand, which never quite dried out between tides this time of year. Logs were scattered on the beach as if giants had played a game of ‘Pick up Sticks.’ Emily either weaved around them or jumped over them.

  She filled her lungs with the fresh, clean air, a gift from the rain earlier in the day, and relished the coolness of it against her skin. The sunset showed its colors, fighting off the overcast sky. With spring inching closer to summer, the days grew longer, but Emily knew it would be almost dark by the time she returned home.

  Up ahead, a large cluster of rocks populated with hardy trees jutted onto the sand, as if it strained to reach the huge 20-foot-high boulder that dominated its own spot on the beach, partially immersed in the ocean. At certain times of day, depending on the tide, the small, four-foot wide section of sand between the boulder and the rocks filled with ocean water, but Emily normally made it through and back before it became submerged. If not, she would climb over the lower rocks to avoid having to remove her shoes and slosh through the water.

  Running through the opening, something moved in her peripheral vision. It came from the trees, tackled her hard, and slammed her to the ground. Pain rang through her head. The full force of a body came down on top of her. Strong fingers closed around her throat and choked her screams. Panicked, Emily clawed at the unknown attacker. She tried desperately to dislodge him, but her attempts were futile. The weight of a stranger pressed against her and pinned her against the soft sand. The dampness was cold upon her back.

  Her strength waned.

  Her vision faded into blackness.

  Chapter 2

  The female doctor’s hands gently poked and prodded her. From the gurney, Emily stared at the sterile instruments and medical supplies on the counter beside her and wondered how she had ended up here. It was mere minutes since she had regained consciousness, and the doctor had revealed little of what had happened. All Emily knew was she had survived death by strangulation, which was more than enough to make her heartrate spike and her gut clench.

  “I’m going to send you for a CT scan,” Dr. Gordon said. “I don’t think you have any serious injuries to your throat, but I want to be certain. At the same time, we’ll check for a concussion.”

  “I want to know more…” Emily’s voice was just above a whisper, the pain in her throat intense.

  “I know,” the doctor interrupted. “You’ll talk to the police in a little while. First, we have to make sure your injuries are taken care of.”

  An orderly appeared and steered Emily’s stretcher down the hallway to the radiology department. The small hospital served a few communities along the western coast of the island. It didn’t take long to get from one end of the building to the other, but Emily was still surprised at the speed with which she was handled. Everyone was brisk and attentive. She supposed it wasn’t every day they treated someone who had been attacked in such a violent way, not in this peaceful area of the world.

  When the tests were complete, Emily was rolled back to the ER. She looked around and took in her surroundings. A man stood next to the nurses’ station, and her gaze locked onto his face. He was tall, in his fifties, with a pristine appearance, despite the paunch that threatened the buttons of his uniform shirt. He straightened as his gaze connected with hers.

  “Hey, how are you doing?” His smile was sympathetic, and he moved to stand beside the stretcher as the orderly left the room. The bright overhead lights reflected off his balding head.

  “I’m glad to see you,” she said. “I need to know what’s going on. This guy came out of nowhere and attacked me.”

  Emily had known Ted Bowen, head of the Clear Point division of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, ever since she had moved to the town. He was a respected and familiar sight in the area. His hand closed around hers, and she grasped it like a lifeline.

  “I know,” he said, his expression dismayed. “Everybody’s feeling the shock of it. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

  “I have a lot of …”

  “Oh my God, Em, I got here as fast as I could!” The blonde-haired woman ignored the police chief as she rushed to Emily’s side and grabbed her free hand.

  “What the hell happened? Someone attacked you? And that poor man. I couldn’t believe it when Doug told me. What’s going on?” Her blue-eyed gaze swiveled to Ted. “Who did this?”

  “We don’t know yet. This is my first opportunity to speak to Emily.” Ted glared at the woman with a raised eyebrow.

  “What do you mean by ‘that poor man’?” Emily’s head pivoted toward Ted. “What does she mean?”

  “You didn’t tell her?
” the woman said.

  “I just got here. I told you that.” Ted’s face was creased in a deep frown.

  “Oh, Emily. It’s horrible. There…”

  “Francie, this is official police business. I’ll deal with it,” Ted said, his voice firm.

  Emily saw her friend bristle, and impatience surged up inside of her.

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on? I don’t care which one of you it is,” Emily croaked.

  Ted darted a quick glance at the other woman before he focused on Emily.

  “From what we can piece together, a man walking on the beach witnessed the attack on you, and he intervened.”

  Emily’s heartbeat quickened. She hoped this other man could answer her questions, but when she saw the expressions on Ted and Francie’s faces, she doubted she would be happy with the rest of the story.

  “Unfortunately,” Ted said, “he didn’t succeed.”

  “The guy got away,” Emily said, disheartened.

  “Yes.” Ted cast a glance at Francie. “And the man who tried to help you didn’t survive.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “He died?”

  “Yes, seemingly from a broken neck.”

  Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked at Francie in disbelief. Her friend’s downcast expression confirmed Ted’s story.

  “Oh my God,” Emily managed to say. “That poor man. He died because of me.”

  Tears filled her eyes before they slid down her cheeks. Francie’s arm came around her shoulder.

  “Don’t think that way.” Her friend’s voice was gentle. “It wasn’t your fault. It was the man that attacked you. He’s the one to blame.”

  “We suspect he died instantly,” Ted said. “We’re doing everything we can. I called in IHIT. They’re on their way from Vancouver.”