Lynn Blackburn - Hidden Legacy

TO SAVE HER CHILD

Arriving home with the baby she’s adopting, Caroline Harrison finds her house vandalized...and an intruder intent on shooting her. She’s saved when police sirens approach, but all signs point to the little boy as the true target—and the assailant won’t give up. Now she has to rely on Detective Jason Drake, the man who once broke her heart, to figure out why someone’s after her soon-to-be adoptive son. Reunited after thirteen years apart, Jason can’t help but hope their love might be rekindled, but Caroline and her son’s safety come first. Because if he wants a chance at a future—and a family—with them, they have to outrun a hit man.

“Could you walk me through what happened?” Jason asked.

“Okay.”

Unease crept through her as she reentered the house. Was it from replaying the horrible memory of earlier that night? Or was it because the man walking behind her stood on this same spot thirteen years ago and broke her heart?

She forced herself to stay in the present and went through the events of the evening, showing Jason how she’d come in, where she’d dropped her keys, the light that didn’t work in the garage.

Finally, she ran out of words. Someone had tried to kill her tonight. Her home, her haven, her sanctuary had been violated. And now Jason was back.

Oh, Father, how did my life wind up this way?

A gentle tug on her elbow pulled her back to the present. Jason edged between her and the car and looked deep into her eyes. “Caroline.” He swallowed hard and tried again. “You have no reason to trust me, or believe me, or even want me around.” Regret pierced every word. “But I promise you that I will not stop until we’ve found out what’s going on.”

Dear Reader,

I’ve been looking forward to sharing Caroline’s story since she appeared in my first book, Covert Justice. I hope you enjoyed Caroline and Jason’s journey to forgiveness and love.

Caroline’s life hasn’t turned out the way she thought it would, and she’s had to wrestle with whether or not she can trust a God who would allow some of the things that have come into her life.

Jason’s childhood was marred with difficult relationships that have affected the choices he’s made as an adult. He’s had to find a way to get past them and begin the process of forgiveness.

I think most of us have had similar experiences. Ultimately, we know God is in control, but we still struggle when difficulties come our way. Sometimes we blame Him or turn away from Him. When we do, I’m so thankful that He understands when we doubt His goodness. He’s a wonderful Father and is eager to receive us when we turn back to Him.

I’d love to hear your story of God’s faithfulness to you. You can connect with me on social media or via my website at www.lynnhugginsblackburn.com.

Grace and peace,

Lynn

LYNN HUGGINS BLACKBURN believes in the power of stories, especially those that remind us that true love exists, a gift from the Truest Love. She’s passionate about CrossFit, coffee and chocolate (don’t make her choose) and experimenting with recipes that feed both body and soul. She lives in South Carolina with her true love, Brian, and their three children. You can follow her real-life happily-ever-after at lynnhugginsblackburn.com.

Hidden Legacy

Lynn Huggins Blackburn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the Lord shall be safe.

—Proverbs 29:25

For Emma—I adore you and am so thankful God chose me to be your mommy. I love you, pumpkin!

Acknowledgments

Never-ending thanks goes to...

Brian—for supporting me every step of the way. None of this would be possible without you. I love you!

Emma, James and Drew—for making every day a real-life adventure.

My parents, sister and in-laws—for being my biggest cheerleaders and for the countless hours of babysitting that made this book possible.

My sisters in the Light Brigade—for your love and friendship, and for praying me through another story.

My critique partners—for talking me through plot points and off ledges.

Retired South Carolina family court judge Kinard Johnson—for gladly answering my rambling questions about wills and custody issues.

Daniel Fetterolf—for answering random questions about police procedures.

Lynette Eason—for so many things, but especially for reading the roughest of rough drafts.

Tamela Hancock Murray—for your guidance and for being a constant source of encouragement.

Elizabeth Mazer—for, once again, making the story so much better.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The house had been ransacked.

Caroline Harrison squeezed baby Henry closer. Her chest tightened, and each breath came as a spasm as she took in the scene. Chair and sofa cushions lay scattered around the living room. Glass from a shattered vase littered the rug. Two plants had crashed to the floor, their leaves and soil mingled with books yanked from the bookcase.

Who had done this?

Why?

What if they were still here?

A scraping noise from the back of the house answered her silent question. Her skin tingled, and acid filled her mouth.

She had to get out. Now. Her parents’ home was a quarter of a mile back down the winding mountain road. Too far to run with a sixteen-month-old in her arms.

She needed to get to her car. Once she got away, she’d call 911 and wait for the police. She backed up, one slow step at a time, reaching into her pocket for her keys.

Keys that weren’t there.

She patted the other jacket pocket. Also empty. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she kept moving—closing the distance between the den and the garage, where the safety of her car waited.

What had she done with her keys?

Her mind spun, retracing her steps.

She’d pulled into her dark garage, frustrated that the bulbs in the garage door opener had blown out—again. She’d grabbed the diaper bag—

That was it. The keys were in the diaper bag.

She’d dropped the bag on the table by the door as she’d entered. She continued to ease backward toward the garage, taking each step with care. Maybe whoever was inside was so busy stealing something they hadn’t noticed her arrival. The longer they stayed occupied, the better her chance of getting away.

Henry slept on, oblivious to the unfolding drama.

Her hand closed around the strap of the overflowing diaper bag. Why hadn’t she cleaned it out this morning? If anything fell out on the floor as she made her escape...

She slid the strap over her shoulder and reached behind her with her free hand. She’d find the keys after she got in the car.

She hadn’t realized her palms were sweating until she couldn’t grip the doorknob. She rubbed her free hand on her pants and tried again. The knob turned without a sound, but as she opened the door, she braced for the chime from her security system that usually alerted her to any opened door or window.