Books by Fern Michaels
No Way Out
The Brightest Star
Fearless
Spirit of the Season
Deep Harbor
Fate & Fortune
Sweet Vengeance
Holly and Ivy
Fancy Dancer
No Safe Secret
Wishes for Christmas
About Face
Perfect Match
A Family Affair
Forget Me Not
The Blossom Sisters
Balancing Act
Tuesday’s Child
Betrayal
Southern Comfort
To Taste the Wine
Sins of the Flesh
Sins of Omission
Return to Sender
Mr. and Miss Anonymous
Up Close and Personal
Fool Me Once
Picture Perfect
The Future Scrolls
Kentucky Sunrise
Kentucky Heat
Kentucky Rich
Plain Jane
Charming Lily
What You Wish For
The Guest List
Listen to Your Heart
Celebration
Yesterday
Finders Keepers
Annie’s Rainbow
Sara’s Song
Vegas Sunrise
Vegas Heat
Vegas Rich
Whitefire
Wish List
Dear Emily
Christmas at Timberwoods
Hidden
The Sisterhood Novels:
Bitter Pill
Truth and Justice
Cut and Run
Safe and Sound
Need to Know
Crash and Burn
In Plain Sight
Eyes Only
Kiss and Tell
Blindsided
Gotcha!
Home Free
Déjà Vu
Cross Roads
Game Over
Deadly Deals
Vanishing Act
Razor Sharp
Under the Radar
Final Justice
Collateral Damage
Fast Track
Hokus Pokus
Hide and Seek
Free Fall
Lethal Justice
Sweet Revenge
The Jury
Vendetta
Payback
Weekend Warriors
The Men of the Sisterhood
Novels:
Hot Shot
Truth or Dare
High Stakes
Fast and Loose
Double Down
The Godmothers Series:
Far and Away
Classified
Breaking News
Deadline
Late Edition
Exclusive
The Scoop
E-Book Exclusives:
Desperate Measures
Seasons of Her Life
To Have and To Hold
Serendipity
Captive Innocence
Captive Embraces
Captive Passions
Captive Secrets
Captive Splendors
Cinders to Satin
For All Their Lives
Texas Heat
Texas Rich
Texas Fury
Texas Sunrise
Anthologies:
Home Sweet Home
A Snowy Little Christmas
Coming Home for Christmas
A Season to Celebrate
Mistletoe Magic
Winter Wishes
The Most Wonderful Time
When the Snow Falls
Secret Santa
A Winter Wonderland
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
Making Spirits Bright
Holiday Magic
Snow Angels
Silver Bells
Comfort and Joy
Sugar and Spice
Let it Snow
A Gift of Joy
Five Golden Rings
Deck the Halls
Jingle All the Way
FERN MICHAELS
HIDDEN
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
THE TRUTH WILL RISE
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2021 by Fern Michaels
Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-5232-6
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5233-3 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-5233-5 (eBook)
Prologue
Boston, Massachusetts
Millstone Manor
“What do you mean you still don’t know where it is? I’m paying you good money to find it.” The decibel level of his rage almost shook the walls. “Just find it! And fast!” Arthur Millstone hurled the burner phone across his desk, causing his wife, Rowena, to flinch. After years of marriage to Arthur, she very rarely flinched anymore. “I told you to oversee the estate sale!” The vein in his neck was pulsing as he unleashed his fury at his wife. She could have sworn there was spit coming out of his mouth.
Rowena calmly flicked the ash of her cigarette into the Burj al Arab ashtray from the world-class hotel in Dubai. She leaned back into the sumptuous leather club chair facing Arthur’s desk and crossed her long legs, which were shod in a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes. “You do realize there was a lot of furniture involved in that sale. A great many pieces. And they were sold to a multitude of buyers. Whatever piece of furniture that document was stashed in is long gone. Somewhere. Anywhere.” She let out an annoyed huff.
“Well, that’s just not good
enough, darling,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“May I remind you that you were the one who insisted I use Amber. The aspiring art curator from your club.” Another drag of her cigarette, then a long glare, as Rowena waited for Arthur’s response.
“I’m not in the mood for your snide remarks,” he hissed. He pointed to her shoes, one at a time. “Those? Those? And that Chanel bag? Remember where the money came from. And if we don’t find and destroy that document, all of it will be out the window.” He slumped into his chair. “Must you smoke those filthy things in here?” he barked.
“It’s your ashtray, darling. And these are no worse than your horrid Cuban cigars.” Another flick of ash.
“I don’t have time to quibble as to whose nasty habits are worse.”
“Oh, Arthur, take a chill pill, will you. It’s lost, gone. Fini. Finito. It is never going to turn up,” Rowena said, calmly stubbing out her cigarette to emphasize her remark.
“Don’t be so sure. If we don’t get our hands on that thing, this multibillion-dollar empire will no longer be at our disposal. And I doubt they have designer jumpsuits in prison.”
Buncombe County, North Carolina
Stillwell Art Center
Cullen Bodman wiped his hands on the work apron that protected his pants. He stepped back to look at his latest handiwork. The sign read: THE B.A.R.R.N. It announced the Bodman-Antiques-Retro-Restoration & Namaste Café. His sister, Luna, looped her arm through his. “Nice work, Cul. Just in time for this weekend’s grand opening of the art center. I have to admit, the adjacent café was a brilliant idea.”
“I had to get you out of my hair somehow.” He lightly elbowed her in the waist.
“Aren’t you the funny man?” Luna returned the affectionate nudge.
Luna and Cullen had grown up in a modest middle-class community. Their parents were antique dealers who were planning to retire. Cullen had graduated from college two years before Luna and had worked for a large development company for ten years. When their parents announced their retirement, Cullen saw it as an opportunity to use his hobby of restoring furniture and embark on a new career, beginning with what was left of the inventory from his parents’ shop. They had been able to negotiate a space for Cullen’s workshop and showroom, and an adjacent shop for a small café.
Luna was a free, creative soul. Given her paranormal endeavors, she used Bodhi as her last name in honor of her alter ego. The word meant “enlightened” in Sanskrit. But when it came to working with Cullen, she was a Bodman through and through.
But it was her interest in human behavior that had led her to earn a degree in psychology with a strong focus on parapsychology. Luna was also astute at kinesics, the interpretation of body language. Both of her skills, learned and intuitive, allowed her to do freelance work with local police departments, handling missing persons cases, including a big case for the U.S. Marshals Office of Missing Children.
Now the plan was for her to set up shop at the adjacent café, doing readings for those who inquired, and consulting with Cullen’s clientele when it came to helping pick out pieces that would conform to their particular tastes. It was the best of both worlds for her.
Cullen was all business when he wasn’t in the shop stripping old furniture and bringing it back to life. Though in a lot of ways opposites, he and his sister made a good pair. Always had.
The beeping of a truck backing up signaled the final delivery. Cullen had purchased several items that were in dire need of restoration from a dealer in Reston, Virginia. The original estate sale, in Boston, Massachusetts, consisted of dozens of pieces ranging from a rococo ormolu commode that had fetched $10,000, a Louis XVI marquetry armoire that had gone for $6,000, and a Louis XVI sideboard that had sold for $5,000. But Cullen was much more interested in the old, dilapidated objects that came from the garage of the estate. With some TLC, it would give him a great deal of pleasure to bring the four items back to life and sell them to good homes. In all honesty, Cullen was hoping to move further away from the antiques business and make restoration his only focus. He just didn’t have the heart to tell his parents that yet.
Cullen had the business head and the restoration expertise. He would leave Luna to her many talents. Together, they could make this “crazy idea” work, which was what their father had called it when they decided to open their business at the art center.
Luna and Cullen worked their way through the pristine shop, in which dozens of restored pieces waited for a new home. Four more pieces would fit perfectly in the thousand square feet of space at the front.
A ramshackle ash-blue farm table with drawers was the last thing off the truck. Luna moved toward it as if it were a magnet. When she touched the top of the table, she got a shiver. She wasn’t sure why, but the shudder led her to believe something wasn’t quite right.
Chapter One
North Carolina
Cullen Bodman was a typical, clean-cut, all-American guy. He was nearly six feet tall, with sandy-brown hair and green eyes. True to his name, he was a “good-looking lad.” He had a lean and trim build. Physically fit. Woodworking had made his biceps the envy of most of the guys at the gym. They were toned and sinewy, something that came from physical labor rather than barbells. He loved to work with his hands. Build things. But his parents had encouraged him to get his degree in business administration. “You can take that anywhere” was his father’s advice.
He was right to a certain extent, but working in the business world was not anything for which Cullen had any real desire. He wanted to be enthusiastic about his work, something he shared with his sister. They were both creative and sensitive; and they felt smothered if they couldn’t express themselves. However, unlike his sister, Cullen often disguised his compassionate and sympathetic side. He needed to be levelheaded. Responsible. But underneath the cool, contemplative exterior was a kind, considerate, and tender man. It had been a long inner quest to be able to merge the two.
Now, at thirty-five, he could look forward to something exciting. Not looking at spreadsheets and tracking costs per project. Other people’s projects. Bor. Ing. But this? This was exhilarating. Even with the financial risks involved in starting a new business, he was happy to wake up to a new day every morning.
Cullen was equally thrilled to have his sister working in close proximity. Growing up, he had always been his sister’s protector. He knew she could take care of herself, but he also knew that she had a kind, vulnerable soul. Her empathy could lead her down paths where people did not appreciate her generosity.
Funny. Despite being psychic, she very often found herself bailing people out of tight messes while getting herself into one. He thought of the adage about the shoemaker’s kids who have no shoes. He recalled the time when one of her college roommates needed to borrow some cash. Luna couldn’t get to the bank and foolishly gave her roommate her ATM card. Luna had no reason not to trust her. They had been roommates for almost four years. But the next morning, she discovered that her roommate had cleaned out her account and skipped town. Cullen gave her the $3,000 she had stupidly let slip through her hands without a lecture or reprimand.
Or the time when someone spray painted big, black letters on Luna’s apartment door with the words Weirdo. Luna-tic!
It took several days of interrogating the neighborhood and looking at whatever surveillance video was available, but Cullen finally identified the graffiti artist and tracked him down. It took little convincing from Cullen for the Keith Haring wannabe to decide he would be retiring his can of spray paint.
Cullen smiled to himself recalling the confrontation. The kid was around twelve years old. Cullen followed him home from school. When Cullen rang the doorbell, a very tough-looking woman with a large mole on her chin answered. A large black hair, the size of a cat whisker, protruded from the mole. It completely caught Cullen off guard, and he almost burst out laughing. Instead, he regrouped and began his lecture. “Mrs. Rector, your son defaced my sister’s front
door.”
She immediately became defensive, but Cullen put an abrupt halt to her tirade. “While my sister may have beliefs different from yours, I can assure you she is not weird. In fact, she is a highly spiritually evolved human being. Much more than I can say for you, given your lack of tolerance. I don’t know what you are teaching your children, but if I so much as see your son, or any member of your family, near my sister again, you will wish you lived in another country. Harassment and hate are not welcome here.” He stared her down. “Do I make myself clear?” Her lower lip twitched as the mole danced up and down on her face.
Mrs. Rector answered with a meek, “Crystal.” Cullen turned on his heel, eager to leave the scene before he burst out laughing. With that mole on her face and her hair wrapped up in a babushka, she reminded him of Strega Nona, the famous award-winning children’s book by Tomie dePaola. It had once been banned for showing witchcraft and differences in spirituality in a positive light. How ironic, he thought. Luna will certainly get a big kick out of this.
Throughout high school and college, Cullen and Luna had remained close. Neither had married nor entered into a committed relationship. At least not for any length of time. Luna would give Cullen her take on the latest girlfriend. One time, it resulted in a heated argument when Luna warned Cullen that Nora was a cheater. “You have no proof of that,” he bellowed.
“No. Not yet. But mark my words, Cullen Bodman.” She slammed the door on her way out.
They hadn’t spoken for almost a month. Luna was not only his sister, but she was also his best friend. He felt terrible about it. Then one day his phone beeped, indicating an Instagram message was waiting. It was from Luna’s friend Barb. He furrowed his brow. Barb rarely, probably never, sent Instagram photos to him. Her text read: