Proof, p.1
Proof, page 1
Books by Fern Michaels
The Wild Side
On the Line
Fear Thy Neighbor
No Way Out
Fearless
Deep Harbor
Fate & Fortune
Sweet Vengeance
Fancy Dancer
No Safe Secret
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
The Lost and Found
Novels:
Secrets
Hidden
Liar!
The Sisterhood Novels:
Rock Bottom
Tick Tock
19 Yellow Moon Road
Bitter Pill
Truth and Justice
Cut and Run
Safe and Sound
Need to Know
Crash and Burn
Point Blank
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:
Tiny Blessings
In Bloom
Home Sweet Home
Holiday Novels
Santa’s Secret
Santa & Company
Santa Cruise
The Brightest Star
Spirit of the Season
Holly and Ivy
Wishes for Christmas
Christmas at
Timberwoods
Christmas Anthologies
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
PROOF
ZEBRA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue One
Prologue Two
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
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
900 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2024 by Fern Michaels
Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP5, 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 BOOKS and the Zebra logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-5561-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5561-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-5564-8 (eBook)
This book is dedicated to all who help rescue animals.
Bless you and all God’s creatures.
Prologue One
Stillwell Art Center
Buncombe County, North Carolina
Stillwell Art Center was coming up on its third anniversary. The forty-acre complex was home to a two-story lavish building where dozens of artists occupied glass-enclosed workspaces overlooking a meticulously landscaped atrium in the center. The rear of the building had large glass sliding doors that opened to a stone patio with café tables. Beyond the patio was an equally meticulous park where visitors could bring their dogs and let them run in a designated area, where they were supervised by an attendant.
The genius behind the artisan village was Ellie Stillwell, a seventy-something former art professor. It was when her husband Richard passed away that she discovered how much money her real estate, bonds, and investments were worth, and that the farm and land she’d inherited from her family spanned hundreds of acres.
Ellie and Richard had never had children. The farm, Richard’s law practice, her position at the college, and their dogs were all they needed. But Ellie wanted to leave a legacy, something for the community of artists, and for the community as a whole. It took almost two years and a lot of council meetings, surveys, revisions, building plans, and cajoling before they broke ground. Initially many of the council members were dubious about the viability of an art center outside Asheville, North Carolina. Who would go watch people paint? Throw pottery? Ellie had ready answers: It would be a place of interest. A destination. She explained that the atrium would be surrounded by gourmet shops, where people could purchase sandwiches, salads, pastries, cheese, wine, tea, and coffee between visits to the many artists’ studios, where they could watch the artists at work—and hopefully purchase something. Strategically placed café tables in the atrium as well as on the outdoor patio would provide a place to eat and relax. In addition to the elegant food court, Ellie would allow community organizations to hold their events free of charge.
She continued to explain and defend her ideas, including Thursday nights devoted to music, when people could listen to smooth jazz or a string ensemble.
After much debate, she won over the council and began the year-long construction.
Not only was the Stillwell Center artist-friendly, but it was also dog-friendly and kid-friendly. Well, sometimes kid-friendly, depending on which entitled grou p of wine-slugging women showed up. Some days a particular group of women came with their undisciplined children—and no nannies—which gave Nathan Belmont, head of security, a run for his money. Literally. One time he chased a five-year-old over three hundred yards through the well-kept gardens. The tipsy mother hadn’t noticed her child was missing until Nathan carried him back into the atrium. It wasn’t a daily event, and everyone knew who that little group of designer clotheshorses were, so they were prepared when the women and their offspring appeared for a version of Chuck E. Cheese.
While Ellie would never proclaim whose art she preferred, she’d developed a strong bond with Luna Bodhi Bodman, the occupant of The Namaste Café. Luna had once been employed as a social worker in child psychology, but her real passion leaned toward the metaphysical. Ever since childhood, she’d had a way of knowing things. A gift, some would say. She could read people like an open book, and she would do cold psychic readings for customers if they were so inclined. A large easel and drawing pad were her medium. When people came seeking advice, she would stand behind the easel and draw whatever images came to her. It was uncanny, as Ellie discovered when Luna told her things about Richard that no one could have known.
Luna was very low-key when it came to providing insight to customers, even though her reputation was well-known. She never solicited. They had to ask. Luna’s bohemian wardrobe, granny glasses, and waist-long hair might have been a clue as to her practice, but then again, it was an art center, and many of its denizens wore unconventional clothing.
Luna’s older brother Cullen took the corner spot on the first floor, next to her café. When he’d graduated from college, he was employed in an office doing office-type things. The type of things that weren’t fulfilling for him. When their parents retired from their antiques business, Cullen took it over and expanded it to include restoration, then became a master craftsman, resuscitating discarded furniture.
The third person in Ellie’s close-knit group was Lebici “Chi-Chi” Stone, a stunning woman whose hand-crafted jewelry was an extension of her beauty. Her parents had brought her and her brother to the States when she was nine. Before moving, her father worked in Kano, Nigeria, and was employed making ceremonial bowls. Chi-Chi showed an interest in the craft at an early age. As she grew, so did her fascination with jewelry. She studied metalsmithing after high school, and during her summer breaks, she visited Nigeria and brought gemstones back to incorporate into her work. Now, at thirty-nine, she was renowned for her jewelry, which fetched anywhere from 500 up to thousands of dollars for custom pieces. Chi-Chi and Luna had become best friends, and a romance between Cullen and Chi-Chi began to grow. They often had dinner together, and when Luna’s love interest, Marshal Christopher Gaines, was in town, it was always a cheerful occasion. Unless Luna was on one of her missions to solve a mystery, which usually involved one of the items in Cullen’s workshop. Then it became a madcap adventure that drew all of them into Luna’s world of mystery.
Prologue Two
The Caribbean
For their fifteenth anniversary, a thirty-something couple decided to make a return to St. Kitts. With its rolling green hills, fertile land, and pristine sandy beaches where the deep rich blue of the Atlantic meets the tranquil turquoise of the Caribbean, St. Kitts is a small island of 50,000 people. Just southeast of Puerto Rico, it beckons visitors to experience its beauty. At only sixty-five square miles, it’s a very low-key alternative to the more popular and much larger islands, like Jamaica and Puerto Rico, which are seven and eight times its size.
With the exception of the addition of some eateries, water sports, and a golf course, the island has changed very little over the years. It has preserved its casual, slow-paced, easy, island vibe.
The couple was sitting on the veranda that overlooked Mt. Nevis, having their final breakfast of the trip.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she sighed.
“Yeah. Me too,” he replied as he scrolled through his phone. “We could stay a few more days. The booking site says it’s available.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He continued to read the information on his phone. “Get this, the house we’re staying in is on the market.”
“For real?” she asked.
He began to read aloud: “‘Beautiful cottage, two bedrooms, two baths, with view of Mt. Nevis and the sea. Built two years ago. Great income property.’ ” He stopped. “Yeah. We’re the income.”
“Wait, honey. What are they asking?”
“ ‘Call for quote.’ ”
“So call them, for Pete’s sake.”
“Why?”
“Income property. We’ve been talking about investing in something why not this?”
He looked up from his phone. “You’re serious.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Why not? If we’re going to buy something for rental income, this could be perfect. I betcha it would pay for itself, and we’d have a place to spend our own vacations.”
He looked at her. “Let me see what I can find out.”
She gave him her best Miss Hennepin County smile and squeezed his hand. He placed the call and spoke with a realtor while writing numbers on a piece of paper. “Sounds like a worthwhile venture. Let me speak to my wife about it. I noticed it’s available to rent next week, so we’d like to stay on. Give us more of an opportunity to delve into this proposal. Great. Thanks. Talk soon.”
He turned to her. “If what he told me is accurate, you’re right. This place pays for itself, provided there are no hurricanes.”
She giggled. “How much are they asking?”
He slid the paper over to her. “That is in the ballpark, honey. What’s the difference if the property is close to home or in the Caribbean?”
Her rosy cheeks got rosier. “Everything!”
“Are you sure you want to do this? Part of the plan was that I would take care of the property, like fixing stuff. It’s not going to be profitable if I have to fly here to do it.”
She knew he was kidding. “Well, I’m sure there’s someone who could manage it for us. Whoever is managing it now, maybe. Did the realtor say why the owners want to sell it? We’re not sitting on a sinkhole, are we?”
“Nah. The husband needed medical care, which means the family needs money. I don’t know if they’re desperate, but if you’re really sure, we can try to negotiate.”
“Swell!” she cooed, with her beauty pageant smile and pink cheeks.
Two days later, they were sitting in the realtor’s office, filling out the paperwork. The closing wouldn’t be for a few more weeks, so they flew home and made arrangements to return when the date was set. They were both keen to “Pop the bubbly from our veranda.”
Everything proceeded according to plan, and the couple made their second journey in a month. The closing went smoothly, and the couple did exactly what they’d anticipated and opened a bottle of champagne on their new veranda as they watched the sky turn from light pink to deep red to purple.
The following morning, the couple decided to rent a small powerboat and cruise the shoreline of their new home away from home. She clung to his arm as their boat scooted around what appeared to be an old fishing boat. She noticed someone was hanging off the side and pulling up a basket of something. She thought it might be a crab trap, until a shot rang out and the person who had been leaning over fell in the water, surrounded by a pool of blood.
She started screaming, and her husband hit the throttle and hightailed it out of there until the fishing boat was no longer in sight. They felt shock and horror as they flew past the dock where they were supposed to return the boat.
“What should we do?” she yelled over the sound of the ramped-up motor. “We need to go to the police.” She started shaking as he slowed down the skiff.
“I don’t know if we should do that,” he said. “We’re in a foreign country.” He cut the engine and let the boat drift.
“What does that mean?” She was in tears now.
