Marilyn Pappano - Copper Lake Encounter

USA TODAY bestselling author Marilyn Pappano returns to the mysterious and dangerous town of Copper Lake

Nev Wilson believes in dreams—because hers come true. Her latest nightmares are worrisome enough to draw her to Copper Lake, where a frightening truth awaits. Luckily, she’s under the protection of hunky detective Ty Gadney.

As the only black cop in town, Ty has faced his share of hardship. When Nev needs his help untangling mysteries of her past, he discovers that hatred and fear are very much alive today. But as they work together, he feels he’s met the woman of his dreams—if her dreams don’t get them both killed.

“How long will you be here?” Ty asked.

“I don’t know. My schedule is flexible.” Nev took a long sip of coffee, savoring it. “Does it offend you if people call you police officer instead of detective?”

“Nah. Either title deserves respect in my opinion.”

“Is it what you always wanted to do?”

“Always.” Ty polished off his first cookie, then glanced at his watch. “Man, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a big date tonight, and I can’t be late.”

“A big one, huh?” Of course he had a date. He was gorgeous. It was Saturday.

“Yeah, Granddad can’t stand to miss the beginning of a movie.” He flashed that bright smile at her again. “It’s been nice meeting you, Nev Wilson. I’ll see you again.”

That last seemed a bit presumptuous, but the thought was lost as she watched the back view of him on the way to his car. Snug-fitting jeans, long legs, muscular everything… Sigh.

Seeing him again would be a benefit.

But it didn’t change the reason she was here.

Dear Reader,

When Scandal in Copper Lake came out a few years ago, a lot of readers wanted to know more about Charlotte, Anamaria Duquesne’s baby sister who disappeared at birth and, until the end of the book, was presumed dead. The fact that she was alive surprised me, too (that happens a lot when I write), so I also began to wonder what had happened to her.

It took a lot of wondering on my part (that happens a lot, too), though I knew one thing right away: her story would involve Detective Tyler Gadney. I’d had a crush on him since I’d introduced him in another book and really wanted to get to know him better.

But how to find Charlotte? Get her to Copper Lake? Unravel the mystery of her birth and her life? It took a while, but I’m very pleased with the answers and the journey the characters took to find them. I hope you are, too.

Marilyn

Copper Lake Encounter

Marilyn Pappano

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MARILYN PAPPANO

has spent most of her life growing into the person she was meant to be, but isn’t there yet. She’s been blessed by family—her husband, their son, his lovely wife and a grandson who is almost certainly the most beautiful and talented baby in the world—and friends, along with a writing career that’s made her one of the luckiest people around. Her passions, besides those already listed, include the pack of wild dogs who make their home in her house, fighting the good fight against the weeds that make up her yard, killing the creepy-crawlies that slither out of those weeds and, of course, anything having to do with books.

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To Debbie Hill Hodge, my idea of the perfect reader—and you’re funny, smart, compassionate and entertaining, too. I hope to meet you in person someday. Many, many thanks for the friendship and support!

Contents

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

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Welcome to my dream.

I’ve been having it every night for the past twenty-nine days. I’m in a strange place. It could be a neighborhood here in Atlanta, but I don’t think so. It has a small-town feel. I walk down the streets, passing businesses that are closed up tight. I don’t see any people, though I hear them, as if life is going on around me, but instead of me being invisible, in this dream everyone else is.

On one side of the street is an old-fashioned square. On the other, I see restaurants, a pharmacy, a flower shop, a coffee shop. I smell the rich dark roast and, fainter, the buttery aroma of fresh pastry. I can’t see the names of any of the establishments or enough details to make identifying them possible.

Now I’m in a riverfront park. There’s a parking lot, playground equipment, a broad asphalt track used by runners. I’m not one of them. I prefer to get my exercise in a shopping mall or a kitchen, which explains why I’m...plump, says my mother. Fat, says my sister. Curvaceous, says my grandmother. Like a woman should be.

I follow the trail as it leads out of town into the woods that border the river. It starts to rain, a gentle mist that gradually gains intensity, growing into fatter, forceful drops. The sky darkens, but I can’t turn around. Something draws me along the trail, to its end, onto a faint path that sticks close to the river. With each breath I inhale the smells so foreign to me, the city girl: decaying leaves, mud, water, fish. Nature.

The trail peters out fifteen feet ahead. I stand beside a fallen tree, downed so long ago that it seems impossible it ever could have stood upright. Some of its ghostly branches reach into the slow-moving river; others rise into the night sky like phantom limbs from phantom dead. They beckon me, and I move closer, until lightning flashes, brilliant and blinding, frightening me, making me spin and turn back the way I came.

My pace picks up until I’m running as fast as my three-inch heels and tight skirt will allow. I feel something following, something that escaped the fallen tree. The parking lot, the town, is ahead, the people I can’t see, but the thing behind me is closer, ever closer, and suddenly I trip—

Nevaeh Wilson’s breath caught with such force that her chest and throat ached. Though her eyes were still closed, she laid her arm over them and concentrated on filling her lungs, slowing her heart rate. She hated dreams, especially the repetitive ones. Especially the ones she was actually a part of.

Most of the dreams were harmless—about friends, acquaintances, occasionally strangers, about falling in love and having babies and gentle, easy deaths, breaking hearts and starting over.

This dream disturbed her.

Finally, she removed her arm and glanced around the room. It was comforting in the way old familiar things were. She’d lived most of her life in this room, with her parents down the hall, her sister, Marieka, next door, her mother’s mother across the hall. She’d been ten when she moved into it, not sure she was ready to have a room all to herself. But there’d been no doubt that Marieka was ready. She was tired of having her big sister hanging around all the time. She needed privacy and peace.

Now here they were, twenty-eight and twenty-seven, still living in their mother’s house with their mother and grandmother and a lifetime of memories.

Nev checked the clock. Five-fifteen. If she managed to fall back to sleep, the dream might return. Tossing back the covers, she stood, stretched her arms high and then touched the floor before shrugging into her bathrobe and stepping into scuffs.