Whispering Rock

Praise for the novels of

ROBYN CARR

“The Virgin River books are so compelling— I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.” —New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!” —New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers

“A thrilling debut of a series that promises

much to come.”

—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler

“Jennifer is a beautifully drawn character whose

interior journey is wonderful to behold.”

—RT Book Reviews on Runaway Mistress

“This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”

—Book Reviewer on Blue Skies

“Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful,

thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”

—Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley

“A remarkable storyteller.”

—Library Journal

“A warm, wonderful book about women’s

friendships, love and family. I adored it!”

—Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street

“A delightfully funny novel.” —Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party

WHISPERING

ROCK

ROBYN CARR

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Michelle Mazzanti and Kristy Price,

an author’s best friends.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to Pamela SF Glenn, CNM, MS—without whose expertise in midwifery this story would not have been possible. My deepest gratitude for poring over manuscript after manuscript with sharp eyes and a ruthless pen, keeping me straight. And to Sharon Lampert, RN, WHNP, for sharing her expertise as a women’s health nurse practitioner, but mostly for picking up your phone no matter where you were and answering delicate questions about female anatomy and function with directness and honesty. I’m sure there are people out there still talking about what they overheard in the grocery store, beauty parlour and Department of Motor Vehicles. The passion and devotion with which you two professionals serve your women patients is inspiring, and was an enormous help in shaping the character of a dedicated nurse practitioner and certified nurse midwife.

Thanks to Paul Wojcik for sharing your experiences in the United States Marine Corps, and to Richard Gustavson, RN with twenty-three years in the Navy Reserves. I thank each of you for reading the manuscripts and for offering your invaluable technical input.

Kris Kitna, Chief of Police, Fortuna, California, thanks for valuable information on local law enforcement, not to mention help with details about hunting, fishing and firearms.

Kate Bandy, the best assistant a writer can possibly have, my dear friend of many years, thanks not only for reading copy and offering suggestions, but especially for accompanying me on an exciting research trip to Humboldt County. Without you there I would have floundered … or slipped off a mountain. Denise and Jeff Nicholl—thanks for reading first drafts, taking exhaustive notes and answering a million questions. Your friendship and support during the whole process means the world to me. Many thanks to Nellie Valdez-Hathorn for her help with my Spanish.

Other early readers whose input was critical included Jamie Carr, Laurie Fait, Karen Garris, Martha Gould, Pat Hagee, Goldiene Jones and Lori Stoveken—I’m deeply in debt to you for your comments and suggestions.

Huge thanks to Clive Cussler, Debbie Macomber and Carla Neggers for reading and commenting on the Virgin River series in the first place. For you to take the time, with your busy schedules, is a monumental compliment.

Huge thanks to Valerie Gray, my editor, and Liza Dawson, my agent, for your commitment to helping me craft the best series possible. Your hard work and dedication made all the difference—I’m so grateful.

To Trudy Casey, Tom Fay, Michelle Mazzanti, Kristy Price and the entire staff of Henderson Public Libraries, thank you for the monumental support and encouragement. I’ve never known a more hardworking and motivated group of public servants.

And finally, thanks to Jim Carr for your loving support. And, my God, thank you for cooking! I wish I’d known years ago that you could!

One

Mike Valenzuela was up and had his Jeep SUV packed long before sunrise. He had a long drive to Los Angeles and meant to get an early start. Depending on traffic around the Bay Area, the drive would be eight to ten hours from Virgin River. He locked up his RV, which was his home. It sat on the property at Jack’s bar and grill; Jack and Preacher would keep an eye on it for him, not that Mike expected any kind of trouble. That was one of several reasons he’d chosen to live here—it was quiet. Small, peaceful, beautiful and nothing to disturb one’s peace of mind. Mike had had enough of that in his former life.

Before coming to Virgin River permanently, Mike had made many trips to this Humboldt County mountain town for hunting and fishing, for gathering with an old Marine squad that was still close. His full-time job had been with LAPD, a sergeant in the gangs division. That had all ended when he was shot on the job—he’d taken three bullets and had a lot of hard work getting his body back. He’d needed Preacher’s robust food and Jack’s wife Mel’s assistance with physicaltherapy on his shoulder. After six months, Mike was as close to completely recovered as he’d get.

Since moving to Virgin River he’d been home only once to visit his parents, siblings and their families. He planned to take a week—one day driving each way and five days with that crowd of laughing, dancing Mexicans. Knowing the traditions of his family, it would be a nonstop celebration. His mother and sisters would cook from morning to night, his brothers would stock the refrigerator with cerveza, family friends and cop buddies from the department would drop by the house. It would be a good time—a great homecoming after his long recovery.

He was three hours into his drive when his cell phone rang. The noise startled him. There was no cell phone reception in Virgin River so the last thing he expected was a phone call.

“Hello?” he answered.

“I need a favor,” Jack said without preamble. His voice sounded gravelly, as though he was barely awake. He must not have remembered Mike was heading south.

Mike looked at the dash clock. It wasn’t yet 7:00 a.m. He laughed. “Well, sure, but I’m nearly in Santa Rosa, so it might be inconvenient to run over to Garberville and get you ice for the bar, but hey—”

“Mike, it’s Brie,” Jack said. Brie was Jack’s youngest sister, his pet, his favorite. And she was really special to Mike. “She’s in the hospital.”

Mike actually swerved on the highway. “Hold on,” he said. “Stay there.” He pulled off the road onto a safe-looking shoulder. Then he took a deep breath. “Go ahead,” he said.

“She was assaulted sometime last night,” Jack said. “Beaten. Raped.”

“No!” Mike said. “What?”

Jack didn’t repeat himself. “My father just called a little while ago. Mel and I are packing—we’ll get on the road as soon as we can. Listen, I need someone who knows law enforcement, criminology, to walk me through what’s happening with her. They don’t have the guy who did this—there’s got to be an investigation. Right?”

“How bad is she?” Mike asked.

“My dad didn’t have a lot of details, but she’s out of emergency and in a room, sedated and semiconscious, no surgery. Can you write down a couple of numbers? Can you keep your cell phone turned on so I can call you? With questions? That kind of thing?”

“Of course. Yes,” Mike said. “Gimme numbers.”

Jack recited phone numbers for the hospital, Jack’s father, Sam, and Mel’s old cell phone that they’d charge on their way to Sacramento and then carry with them.

“Do they have a suspect? Did she know the guy?”

“I don’t know anything except her condition. After we get on the road, get the phone charged and we’re out of the mountains and through the redwoods, I’ll call my dad and see what he can tell me. Right now I gotta go. I gotta get down there.”

“Right,” Mike said. “Okay. My phone will be in my pocket twenty-four-seven. I’ll call the hospital, see what I can find out.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it,” Jack said, hanging up.

Mike sat on the shoulder, staring at the phone for a long minute, helpless. Not Brie, he thought. Oh God, not Brie!

His mind flashed on times they’d been together. A couple of months ago she’d been in Virgin River to see her new nephew, Jack and Mel’s baby. Mike had taken her on a picnic at the river—to a special place where the river was wide, buttoo shallow for fishermen to bother. They’d had lunch against a big boulder, close enough to hear the water whisper by as it passed over the rocks. It was a place frequented by young lovers and teenagers, and that big old rock had seen some wonderful things on the riverbank; it protected many secrets. Some of his own, in fact. He’d held Brie’s hand for a long time that day, and she hadn’t pulled it away. It was the first time he’d realized he was taken with her. A crush. At thirty-seven, he felt it was an old man’s crush, but damned if it didn’t feel awfully like a sixteen-year-old’s.

When Mike met Brie for the first time a few years back, he’d gone to see her brother while Jack was on leave, visiting his family in Sacramento right before his last assignment in Iraq. Mike was oblivious to the fact that his reserve unit would be activated and he’d end up meeting Jack over there, serving under him a second time. Brie was there, of course, recently married to a Sacramento cop. Nice guy, so Mike had thought. She was a prosecutor for the county in Sacramento, the state capital. She was small, about five-three, with long, soft brown hair that flowed almost to her waist, making her look like a mere girl. But she was no girl. She put away hardened criminals for a living; she had a reputation as one of the toughest prosecutors in the county. Mike had immediately admired her brains, her grit, not to mention her beauty. In his past life, before the shooting, he’d never been particularly discouraged by the mere presence of a husband, but they were newlyweds, and Brie was in love. No other man existed for her.

When Mike saw her in Virgin River right after Jack’s son was born, she was trying to recover from a painful divorce—her husband had left her for her best friend, and Brie was shattered. Lonely. So hurt. Mike immediately wanted to take her into his arms and console her, for he was hurting, too. But Brie, crushed by her husband’s infidelity, was determined not to put her heart on the line again, and she wanted nothing of a man, especially another player who’d had more than his share of women. A further complication—this was Jack’s baby sister, of whom he was so protective it verged on ridiculous. And Mike was no longer a driven, devil-may-care Latino lover. He was a cripple. The body just didn’t work right anymore.

It had been only a couple of weeks since he’d last seen her. She had come back to Virgin River with the rest of her family to help erect the frame of Jack’s new house. Preacher and his bride, Paige, were married in that framed structure the very next day. For a man who could barely walk six months ago, Mike had given Brie a fairly decent twirl around the dance floor at the wedding. It was a fantastic party—full of that good old country food, barbecues flaming, the chairs pushed back and the band set up on the foundation of Jack’s unfinished house, the frame strung with floral garlands. He grabbed her, laughing, into his arms and whirled her around with abandon, and whenever the tempo allowed, pressed his cheek close against hers, whispering in conspiratorial amusement, “Your brother is frowning at us.”

“I wonder why that is.” She laughed.

“I don’t think he wants you near a man so like himself,” Mike speculated.

That seemed to amuse her a great deal. She tipped her head back and laughed a little wildly. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “It has nothing to do with your great success with women. You’re a man, near his baby sister. That’s enough.”

“You’re no baby,” he said, pulling her closer. “And I think you’re having too much fun with this, getting him riled up. Don’t you realize he has a dangerous temper?”

Unmistakably, she held him tighter. “Not toward me,” she whispered.

“There’s a devil in you,” he said, and looked death in the face by kissing her neck.

“There’s a fool in you,” she said, tilting her head just slightly to give him more of her neck.

In years gone by he would have found a way to get her alone, seduced her, made love to her in ways she’d dream about later. But three bullets had decided a few things. Even if he could spirit her away from her brother’s protective stare, he wouldn’t be able to perform. So he said, “You’re trying to get me shot again.”

“Oh, I doubt he’d actually shoot you. But I haven’t been to a good old-fashioned wedding brawl in ages.”

When they’d said goodbye he had hugged her briefly, her sweet scent like a cinch around his mind, feeling her cheek against his, his arms around her waist, pulling her close. A bit more than just a friendly gesture—a suggestive one, which she returned. He assumed she was having fun with the flirtation, stirring things up a little bit, but it meant far more than that to him. Brie held his thoughts in a disturbing way that suggested if he were capable of giving her love, she would capture his heart and mind in that powerful way that wipes all other women out of the past. He really didn’t have that to offer anymore. Although that didn’t keep him from thinking about her, wanting her.

He could not bear to think about all that mischief and sass lying broken and violated in a hospital. His heart was in pieces, aching for her. Dying to know that she was going to be all right.

He put the SUV into Drive, looked over his shoulder and got back on the freeway. He gunned the engine and veered across two lanes of fast-moving traffic to make the exit to Sacramento.

When Mike got to the county hospital a couple of hours later, he called Sam’s cell phone number and left a message to say he’d arrived and wanted to know where they were. A prosecutor, the victim of a crime, was not going to be with the general population—she would undoubtedly have security.

Sam came to the hospital entrance, extending his hand. “Mike. Good of you to come. I know Jack will appreciate it.”

“I was on my way south and was almost here anyway. Brie’s a special friend. I’ll do anything I can.”

Sam turned and headed for the elevators. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure what you can do. She’s going to be all right. Physically. I have no idea what a woman goes through after something like this….”

“Tell me what you know so far,” Mike said. “Did she know her attacker?”

“Oh, yes. Remember that terrible trial she had about the same time Jack’s son was born? The serial rapist? The media circus? It was him. She identified him for police.”

Mike stopped walking and frowned. “She’s sure?” he asked. That was such a sick, bold move for someone who’d just gotten a free pass. Brie had lost that trial and it was a hard loss, especially coming on the heels of her divorce. It was as if the sky was falling on her. Also, it wasn’t something men like that did. Typically, they bolted. Got away from anyone who had the balls to go after them, as Brie had.

“She’s sure,” Sam said.

Mike couldn’t help but wonder—was she hit in the head? Hallucinating? In and out of reality because of the trauma? “Her injuries?” he asked.

“Her face is battered, there are two broken ribs and the usual …” He paused. “The usual injuries incurred during a rape. You know.”

“I know,” he said. Tearing, bleeding, bruising. “Has she been seen by a rape specialist and police?”

“Yes, but she wants Mel. Understandably.”

“Of course,” Mike said. Jack’s wife, Mel, was the nurse practitioner and midwife in Virgin River and had had years of experience in a huge L.A. trauma center. She was an expert in battery and sexual assault and if she could be the medical eyes and ears, maybe Mike could cover the police angle. “I heard from them at seven this morning. They should be here in two or three hours, depending on how fast they got out of town.”

Mike noticed a uniformed Sac PD officer standing at the entrance to a room; undoubtedly that’s where Brie was. “Well, let me talk to some people, see if I can find out anything at all. But first, I’ll say hello to the family.” He moved to a large clot of people in the waiting area just down the hall. Jack’s three other sisters, their husbands, a few of his nieces. Mike was embraced and thanked. Then he got about the business of talking to nurses, got the number of the detective on the case from the officer guarding the room. All the detective could tell Mike at this time was that the suspect was still at large. The doctor would discuss her injuries, that was all. But it appeared that apart from being horribly assaulted, she would recover physically.

It was almost three hours later that Jack, Mel and baby David arrived. Jack embraced his father, then looked in surprise at Mike. “You’re here?”

“I was already close,” he said. “I thought I’d come over. If I can help, it’s better for me to be on-site.”

“Oh, man, I didn’t expect this,” Jack said.

“Hell, you’ve done more for me,” Mike said. “And you know I love Brie. Mel,” he said, reaching for baby David, “she said she wants to see you the minute you get here.”

“Of course,” Mel said, handing off the baby.

“I think she needs Mel’s opinion of how the rape evidence was collected,” Mike said to Jack. “Go hug your sisters. By that time you’ll be able to see her.”

“Have you seen her yet?” Jack asked.

“No. It’s family only. But I’ve talked to some people, trying to gather whatever facts they’ll share.”

“God,” Jack said, gripping Mike’s biceps hard. “Thanks. Mike, I didn’t expect this.”

“You should have.” He laughed, jostling little David a little. “That’s how it is with us. Right?”

Jack sat by his sister’s bedside at the county hospital for almost twelve straight hours. He had arrived at eleven in the morning and it was now 11:00 p.m. Outside her door, in the hallway, the family had gathered for most of the day, but as evening had descended they’d drifted home because she was out of danger and sedated. Mike had taken Mel and the baby back to Sam’s, but Jack hadn’t wanted to leave Brie. Brie was close to her entire family, but it was Jack with whom she had the deepest bond.

Jack was torn to pieces as he looked down on his little sister. Her face was horrific; the bruising and swelling was terrible. It looked much worse than it was, the doctor promised. There was no permanent damage; she would regain her former beauty. Every few minutes Jack would reach over, gently smooth back her light brown hair, touch her hand. She wrestled in her sleep now and then, despite the sedatives. If not for the ribs, he might have taken her into his strong arms during these struggles. Instead he would lean over her bed, touch her face where there was no swelling, drop a tender kiss on her forehead and whisper, “I’m here, Brie. You’re safe now, baby.”

At almost midnight he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look up into Mike’s black eyes.

“Go on home, Jack,” he said. “Get a little rest. I’ll sit with her.”

“I can’t leave her,” Jack said.

“I know you don’t want to. But I had a nap,” he lied. “Sam gave me a room at the house. I’ll sit right here in case she wakes up, which she probably won’t, and we’ve got the cop in the hall there. Go. Get a little rest so you can be here for her tomorrow.”

“If she wakes up and I’m not right here …”

“They’re putting heavy-duty bug juice right in the IV to get her through the night,” Mike said softly. “It’s okay.”

Jack laughed a little. “I sat by your bed through a week of nights when you were shot.”

“Yeah,” Mike said. “Payback time. Go home to your wife. See you first thing tomorrow.”

It surprised Mike that Jack actually left. He was the kind of man who went days past exhaustion to be there for someone he cared about. Mike took his place on a chair beside Brie’s bed and sat vigil. Her battered face didn’t shock him—he’d seen worse. But it hurt him inside. He couldn’t imagine the kind of monster who could do that.

The nurses came and went through the night, checking her IV, taking her blood pressure, sometimes bringing Mike coffee from their break room—and it tasted a whole lot better than what the machines dispensed. If he asked, a nurse would sit with Brie while he ran down the hall—a result of the coffee. But Brie didn’t move except for some occasional disturbances that caused her to stir fitfully.

Mike had carried fallen soldiers out of harm’s way; he’d sat by the side of dying men while sniper fire whizzed past his head. But nothing compared to what he felt while looking down at Brie, beaten like this. Thinking of her violation filled him with a kind of rage that had never been visited on him before. Although she was a beautiful woman and strong, his vision kept mixing her up with the vulnerable woman he’d taken on a picnic a couple of months ago. A pretty, young woman who’d just been left by her husband, and was crushed by the betrayal. And what fool would give her up? he thought. It was beyond him.

The rape trial had been one of the toughest of her career. It had taken her months to prepare a case against the suspect for serial rape. The forensic evidence had been strong, but in the end the only witness who hadn’t failed her was a prostitute with a bad record, and the guy walked. Brie had identified him to the police as her rapist when she’d regained consciousness.

In the early hours of the morning she turned her swollen face toward Mike and opened her eyes—or tried to. One was partially shut because of the swelling. He scooted closer. “Brie,” he whispered. “It’s me, Brie. I’m here.”

She put her hands over her face and cried out. “No! No!”

He took gentle hold of her wrists. “Brie! It’s me. It’s Mike. It’s okay.”

But he couldn’t pull her hands away from her face. “Please,” she whimpered pitifully. “I don’t want you to see this….”

“Honey, I saw you already,” he said. “I’ve been sitting here for hours. Let it go,” he said. “It’s okay.”

She let him slowly pull her hands away from her battered face. “Why? Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here!”

“Jack wanted me to help him understand what was happening with the investigation. But I wanted to be here. Brie, I wanted to be here for you.” He brushed her brow gently. “You’re going to be okay.”

“He … He got my gun….”

“The police know, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He’s so dangerous. I tried to get him—that’s why he did this. I was going to put him away for life.”

Mike’s jaw pulsed, but he kept his voice soft. “It’s okay, Brie. It’s over now.”

“Did they find him?” she asked. “Did they pick him up?”

Oh, how he wished she wouldn’t ask that. “Not yet.”

“Do you know why he didn’t kill me?” she asked, a tear running out of her swollen eye and down over the bridge of her purple nose. He tenderly wiped it away. “He said he didn’t want me to die. He wanted me to try to get him again, and watch him walk again. He wore a condom.”

“Aw, honey …”

“I’m going to get him, Mike.”