Forbidden Entry (Kendall O’Dell Mystery series)

Book Preface

Energetic music thumped from the speakers, fueling my already upbeat mood. I pressed the accelerator of my spanking-new, lime green Jeep a little harder, relishing the instantaneous response. Oh yeah. Sweet. Cruising along the two-lane road that sliced through the cactus-strewn landscape, I sipped hot vanilla-laced coffee and marveled at the sight of the vast desert panorama enveloped in a thick layer of ground fog—a rare occurrence that added an interesting dimension to the ordinarily parched Arizona topography. A shadowy platoon of moisture-plumped saguaro cactus stood at attention alongside the road, accentuating the eerie scene. Awesome.

But I knew it wouldn’t last long. According to the local weather forecast, it was slated to be another picture-perfect day with afternoon temperatures climbing to the low-seventies. Having spent the first twenty-eight winters of my life in damp, chilly Pennsylvania, I was still getting accustomed to flowers blooming, green grass and the luxury of sunbathing outdoors in the middle of December. Hard to believe nine months had already passed since I’d been flattened by acute asthma, dumped by my fiancé, then made the agonizing decision to quit my job at the Philadelphia Inquirer and head west to the small town of Castle Valley. To say there had been a lot of changes in my life would be the understatement of the century. But happily I had a new job, a new love, and the scorching Arizona heat had apparently baked away the majority of my debilitating symptoms, although extreme stress or a preponderance of cigarette smoke would sometimes set me off again.

I cracked the window slightly and inhaled the rain-cleansed air saturated with the rich aroma of damp earth, creosote and greasewood. How great was this? The epic storm that had pounded Arizona for six days had finally blown away during the night. Even though I’d enjoyed the welcome rainfall and even a few snow flurries, my prayers for clear weather had been answered. At least for the next few days. The ten-day forecast called for another Pacific storm to move in, but I consoled myself with the fact that there was a chance it could be wrong. I’d been looking forward to this particular day for months. I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. So far, so good.

I glanced eastward at the snow-covered ridgeline and drew in a breath of sheer delight. Pastel pink clouds, crisscrossed by brilliant streaks of magenta jet contrails, stood out in sharp relief against the pale turquoise light of dawn. Mesmerizing! With difficulty, I dragged my gaze away to refocus on the road, accelerating past a slow-moving cattle truck, one of the few vehicles I’d encountered since leaving home. But then, how much traffic would there be on a Thursday morning? I’d checked road conditions several times online and made the decision to avoid what seemed to be perpetual road construction on the I-17 freeway. No sense getting caught in that annoying snarl of congestion if I could avoid it. No. Not today. My schedule was too full to risk even the slightest delay. I’d be smart and take surface streets. At this rate I’d easily make it to Phoenix by nine o’clock, have a couple of hours to complete my ‘to-do’ list from Ginger, meet my friend Fritzy for lunch and still make it to the airport in plenty of time to pick up my parents and younger brother, Sean. Things were finally going my way and I was determined that, for once, everything would go according to plan.

My pulse ramped up again at the thought of actually seeing my family in the flesh, instead of merely Internet FaceTime. What would they think of my new home? I could hardly wait to show off the majestic beauty of Arizona’s deserts, mountains and red-rock canyons. But, best of all would be having them and all my newfound friends gathered to celebrate my engagement to Tally. Or, as Ginger constantly reminded me, ‘Dumplin’ you’ve nabbed yourself the finest lookin’ stud in the whole dang state!’ And she was right. Envisioning Tally’s sharply-chiseled features, serious brown eyes and the impressive picture he presented sitting tall and lean in the saddle as he galloped across the countryside on one of his prize Appaloosa horses, sparked a pleasurable tingle. But there was a flip side to my euphoria. What would my family think of this steadfast, pragmatic rancher who, at times, seemed to personify my polar opposite? I felt sure Tally and my dad would hit it off famously, but doubted my mother’s reaction would be as enthusiastic. From day one she’d been critical of my choice to remain in Arizona and marry, as she often derisively remarked, ‘a backwoods middle-aged cowboy.’ Never mind that he owned the Starfire Ranch, one of the largest cattle and horse ranches in the state. No, she still had her heart set on me returning to cosmopolitan Philadelphia to reconcile with my former boss, mentor and fiancé, Grant Jamerson, who also happened to be the son of her new best friend, Phyllis. To my mother’s credit, she had devoted a significant amount of time and energy planning a grand wedding for us only to see her dreams go down the tubes. I felt confident that once she’d met Tally, he would win her over, but my stomach shrank when I visualized my family’s first encounter with his aggravating mother. Oh boy. What would they think of Ruth Talverson, a ditsy, pill-popping, chain-smoking emotional and mental basket case if there ever was one? Not wishing to add fuel to the fires of my mother’s long list of objections to Tally, I had not shared with them just how off-the-wall she could be sometimes, but in retrospect, perhaps I should have. With luck, maybe she’d be in a mellow frame of mind while they were here. One could only hope.

My cell and car phone rang simultaneously and I glanced at the screen on the dashboard. Curious. Why would Ginger be calling me at the crack of dawn? I pressed the TALK button on the steering wheel. “Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“That you, Sugar?”