Accident Waiting to Happen Read online

  Accident Waiting to Happen

  By Trinity Hart

  Published by Inspired Publishing

  http://www.inspiredromancenovels.com

  Copyright 2011 Trinity Hart

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without the publisher’s permission. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  For more information and titles by Trinity Hart, please visit: http://www.TrinityHart.com http://www.inspiredromancenovels.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “She’s worth more to me dead than alive!” Neil Vandermonde’s grunt of displeasure was trailed by the whoosh of papers being knocked from his desk. “Fifty-seven thousand? Some backwoods dump? This has got to be a bad joke! Her daddy is worth millions!”

  Slapped by the indicative words, Hope Pearson’s hand jumped from the office knob as if it were scalding and she flattened her back to the wall. Her fiancé couldn’t be referring to her…could he?

  But who else had inherited that exact sum from her poorly departed father? Not even buried yet!

  “It’s inconceivable! All that money and he left her practically nothing. Nothing!”

  Feeling as if she’d just been thrust into a very bad dream, Hope clutched at the diamond adorning her index finger and shuddered to make sense of the conversation emanating from the crack in the door.

  “Over two years we’ve wasted on the prude waiting for that old crow to finally give out! Just wouldn’t cooperate and die! Two years and for what? Fifty-seven thousand! Pathetic! We can burn through that sort of cash in a month!”

  The cruel words were like swallowing acid, acid that burned inside her, eating away.

  “You know she’ll never be convinced to sell that ranch, not that it’s worth even close to what we need. Thank goodness we’ve taken precautions.”

  What an unforgivably naïve and gullible fool Hope was!

  Twenty minutes ago, she’d made a quick u-turn on her way from the city, deciding she couldn’t face meeting the funeral home director without Neil after all.

  Yes, she’d assured him she’d been fine. But cruising down the highway, facing that long drive all alone, she’d quickly realized she needed the man she was to marry soon by her side. His arms, his comfort. His support and love—

  The very thought made her gag.

  “Good grief, I paid sixty-k for your ring! That she’s wearing now! And for what! Daddy dearest gave it all to charity? Come on! A bunch of diseased Africans! Unbelievable!”

  A lower voice rumbled a response she couldn’t make out but the feminine tone was unmistakable.

  “You bet we are! Everyone knows televangelists are nothing but crooks in disguise!” Neil’s heated voice turned cool, cunning. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get your diamond. Your yacht too.”

  Hope choked back the urge to mew in devastation. Another woman? Worse, she was wearing her ring?

  Had Neil taken the time to probe deeper, she could’ve informed him Cyrus Pearson was no crook. That she’d always expected to inherit little. The money, Daddy had often reiterated, wasn’t his. It belonged to God.

  Their family never lived rich, never dipped beyond what they needed. Unlike Neil—which admittedly had been part of his initial shine.

  “Why, I’ve spent more money on the little brat…” He swore vulgarly. “No sense in keeping her around now. We’ll just have to dispose of her and cut our losses.”

  As if she were nothing but trash to throw to the curb.

  Again, a mumbled response, followed by Neil’s complaint, “I need a stiff drink.”

  Humiliated, her heart breaking into a million shattered bits, Hope tore away, unable to bear listening further.

  Prying the ring from her shaking manicured finger and chucking it with an indiscernible ding was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

  A worldlier woman might’ve confronted Neil. Put him in his place. It required more strength to kick off her heels, muting her retreat.

  For underneath the makeup and the glamour, at the core of it, she was still just quiet Hope Pearson, brought up by her preacher father to always offer the other cheek. To turn away wrath. Shielded from the world, innocent to all evils.

  Until Neil. Neil, who had swept her off her feet, dazzling her with everything her father had denied her. Flutes of champagne and dancing dusk to dawn. Driving with the top down. Sundays sleeping in.

  Romance. Passion. Temptation in human form.

  Sin.

  Oh yes, for all the money Neil wouldn’t be extorting from her inheritance, she’d paid the ultimate price. Inside herself.

  She’d certainly no need to demand the age-old question, why? Why had this happened to her?

  Hope knew precisely the reason, quoted by her father on their last visit, a gentle yet powerful reminder. “Put not your trust in princes. Psalms 146:3.”

  Lord, please. She didn’t know what she was praying for, only that she needed it desperately. The soul-deep hunger that screamed within her was undeniable. Please…

  If only returning to Him were that easy. If only she could cling to the instinctive need that flashed through her, quickly followed by resentment.

  If not princes, who should she put her trust in? God?

  Devout in the faith her parents had instilled, she’d tried that route. Mom had died regardless.

  Hopping in Neil’s yellow convertible, she twisted the spare key he’d gifted her as proof of his commitment and the engine roared to life. She had enough clothes in her suitcase to last a week and the maid could pack and ship the rest of her belongings. Once Hope reached Austin, she’d park Neil’s treasured sports car somewhere guaranteed to be towed.

  A bitter, indignant part of her even hoped they dinged the paintjob in the process.

  Trust. Hope decided right then and there she was done with it entirely.

  Chapter One

  “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29: 11-13

  Impact.

  There was no screeching of tires, no horns bellowing in warning.

  Just impact, the distinct sound of metal crashing in the rainy summer night, easily heard through the open bedroom window that drafted in humid air.

  To the untrained ear, the sound might’ve been mistaken for thunder. But with twenty years in the force under his belt, a sleepless Caleb McBryde shot into preprogrammed cop-mode. Considering his newfound handicaps, he might be finished carrying a badge, could hardly be considered a superhero to the rescue. But someone out th
ere was hurt, needed help. Badly, from the sound of it.

  Heaving from bed, he tugged his jeans over his boxers, the speed he pressed for inhibited by the leg he practically drug behind him as he gathered his keys and hat. Samson, his collie pup, gave a, “Woof!” pouncing at his feet and attacking denim.

  Caleb shook him off. “Sorry, boy. You can’t come along.”

  A glance to the clock revealed it was ten past two in the morning. Who would be traveling at this late hour, this far out, was beyond him. Drunk teens, his guess. His brother Noah, Sheriff of Serenity Cove, had his hands full with ’em lately. Real shame, the recent problems the area was having with youths and dangerous partying. Good kids, mostly, but they were bored. Young and dumb.

  God, he sent up a quick prayer, let them be okay.

  Though he hated to waste time, there was no telling how long he’d be gone and Samson had an affinity for power cords. Cool sheets of rain gusted around him as he lugged the yet-to-be housebroken pup to the barn and locked him in a stall. Rushing in his awkward way, he limped to his truck and brought the rumbling engine to life, kicking up gravel as he hauled eight-cylinders down the long, lonely lane.

  Minutes later, his headlights skated over a smashed-up car buried nose-first in a gully. Fear for whoever was involved washed cold over Caleb as he slammed on his brakes and thrust the truck into park. Need you now, Lord! Grabbing his heavy-duty flashlight, heart kicking into overdrive, he hopped out.

  Rain besieged him, thunder cracking in the distance. From the looks of it, whoever had been driving lost control around the curve, sideswiped a tree and landed here. Drunk or high, not much debate about that.

  Concern kicked in his gut as his yellow beam whisked across the car and he slid down the slippery embankment, utilizing his good leg. An American model, at least several years old, its white paint job now covered in mud, though the vehicle otherwise appeared well-kept. If he had to guess, he’d say it belonged to some punk’s clueless grandmother. “Hello there!”

  He received no response as his flashlight revealed a mass of blonde ringlets pooled over the steering wheel. A lady, small in stature he gauged from the narrow slump of her shoulders. Could be a teenage girl. She wasn’t moving.

  “Hey there!” Winging open the door with a creak, he placed his fingers to her neck, finding a steady pulse. As he did, she moaned and tried to lift her head. “Easy does it. Try not to move too much. What’s your name?”

  “Hope.” She sat anyway, weakly pushing herself from the steering wheel and deflated airbag. “Oh, that smells.” Her fingers found the swelling on her face just beneath a pair of busted glasses, blood oozing from her delicate-looking nose. “Oh!” she wailed. “What happened?”

  “You tell me, ma’am.” When she cast a pair of huge, confused eyes on him, he added, “You were in an accident.”

  Talk about stating the obvious—either she had a concussion or she’d indeed blacked out on booze, though offhand she didn’t strike him as the drinking type. Nevertheless, in his previous line of work a man learned fast not to put stock in flowery dresses or innocent faces. After a while, enforcing the law made a man cynical—one part of the job Caleb wouldn’t much miss.

  In any case, it was late, or rather, early. Pouring cats and dogs. Maybe she’d fallen asleep behind the wheel or any number of things. He’d best leave the judging to Jesus and concentrate on the rescuing.

  “I’m going to call in your accident and we’ll see about getting you some medical attention.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Lean your head back and pinch your nose.”

  With a stifled sob, she complied, tilting her head against the seat. “The car wouldn’t stop,” she explained nasally. “It just…” Fear sliced through her words. “It wouldn’t…”

  Then she passed out.

  * * * *

  The sense of foreboding hit all at once. Something was wrong. Wrong!

  She should’ve turned back, booked a room for the night. Outside, on a downward slope, thick forest whizzed by, rain assaulting the windshield and Hope pressed harder on the pedal her foot rode. Beneath her heels, the brakes sank. Adrenaline crashed through her like a tidal wave.

  Hahahaha!

  In her rearview mirror, Neil’s clownish reflection leapt from nowhere. Multiplied, distorting. “Oh Hope…” he beckoned.

  “Neil?” His menacing laughter suddenly seemed to come from all sides, mocking as if she were lost in a maze of circus mirrors. Why wouldn’t the car slow? What was he doing? “Stop it! Neil, please! Stop!”

  Too fast! She was going entirely too fast for this wet, windy country lane!

  Please, God! Please!

  Hope fought for concentration on the road, dizzied by his crazed chortles. “Shut up! Shut up!”

  Again, she jammed the brakes, pumping them in terror as her sweaty hands seized the wheel. From the woods, a deer sprang. Her foot lifted and delivered a fierce blow in desperation. She screamed, swerving. Bracing for impact.

  Neil hooted, laughing maniacally.

  Blackness engulfed her, dark and deadly. All encompassing…

  Heaven? Brilliant whites, bright florescent light.

  Thrust from a long murky tunnel, Hope bolted from the nightmare, gasping for breath, her heart pounding in panic. “My brakes!”

  Firm hands seized her shoulders, gently pushing her flat. Beneath her, paper crumbled as reality refocused.

  “Whoa, easy there, Hope,” a blurry stranger cautioned in a deep, reassuring tone. Something about his voice…familiar, soothing…incited her to relax. “Doc says you’re all right but you don’t wanna sit up too fast. You’ve been through a shock.”

  A gurney. That was it—she was lying on a gurney in an oversized hospital gown and her head pounded. She’d been in an accident. Her brakes had failed.

  But how? According to the dealership she’d purchased the sedan from recently, it’d just gone through a hundred-and-one point inspection. Came with a ninety-day guarantee.

  With that thought wound nagging suspicion, curling its way through her, cold and snaky. She’s worth more to me dead than alive!

  No sooner than the thought flitted in her mind did she dismiss it. It was only a stupid dream.

  Surely Neil had just been angry when he blurted that, saying things he didn’t mean.

  Come on, the cutting of brake lines happened in movies, not real life. Neil might be a rat but a murdering rat? In reality, she was “worth” nothing to him at all. He hadn’t a cent to gain by her demise. It was silly to think.

  “Doc says it’s a concussion all right. You have anyone I should call for you?”

  “No. No…I can’t think of anyone.” Without her glasses, all she could make of the man before her was a black cowboy hat, t-shirt and blue jeans. Yet, there was definitely a recognizable quality about him, his big fingers now knotted around the bedrail. “It was you who called for help?”

  “Caleb McBryde.” Removing his hat, he offered his free hand, enveloping hers in his strong grasp. “Lucky I heard the accident. That far out, you might’ve had a long wait ’til someone came along.”

  “Thank you. I—” Instinctively, her hand moved to her head, searching for her frames. The movement clued her into her stiff neck, the pounding in her skull. “I can hardly see you, I’m afraid.”

  “Here.” He plucked her battered eyewear from a television tray. “They’re busted but I bent ’em back as best as I could. I imagine they’ll do until you get a new pair.”

  With certain gentleness, he slid them on her face, brushing aside her hair to tuck the earpieces into place. Sure enough, the right lens was cracked in one corner, creating a line through her vision.

  Gazing up, she found herself face-to-face with cowboy personified. Every inch of him, from head to toe, emanated strength and confidence. A certain sternness. Solidity. Days old golden-brown stubble, threaded with silver, carpeted a handsome countenance, his tanned skin creased by sun and weather. A strong aquiline nose crooked near the top, as
if it’d once been broken, and a purplish scar skated along his left cheek, adding to appearance that this was a man who’d taken life head-on.

  She couldn’t help but notice he was anything but smiling.

  Despite the toughness his exterior presented, there was something soft, caring in his pale blue eyes as they touched her. The same as she’d sensed in his voice, his physical contact.

  “Doc took x-rays. Just some good old-fashioned whiplash, a hard hit to the noggin and your ankle’s sprained. I imagine you’ll be put up the next few days but that’s a small price to pay.”

  “Thank you again. Which emergency room am I in?”

  “Nearest hospital is a good hour-and-a-half drive and that’s if you’re ignoring the speed limit. This is Serenity Cove’s medical center.”

  “Oh…yes.” She remembered the lakefront old brick building on First Street where she’d once received stitches after a riding accident. A sort of old-fashion urgent care, where the doctor was always on call, his office three steps from his living room.

  It’d been years since she returned to the small Texan town but apparently it hadn’t changed much. Still a speck on the map in the middle of nowhere—just the way she remembered and loved the place.

  “Lady, you’re certain there’s no one you’d like me to call? Maybe you’d prefer to use the phone yourself?”

  “I…no.”

  “You rememberin’ everything okay?”

  “Oh…yes.” There was definitely no one. Her hand traveled to her forehead in frustration, brushing aside the tendrils that were forever in her eyes.

  How very alone in the world she found herself. God had taken away everyone who mattered.

  The bitterness in her swelled to the surface, an overwhelmingly miserable cloud in her life. The two people she loved most were in heaven and she hadn’t a soul to call family or friend. Her single living relative, a great aunt, resided in a nursing home, far too elderly to be bothered with her troubles and as an only child, most of Hope’s life had been spent home schooled, on the road with her family promoting the Lord’s kingdom.