Sinister Winds (Storm Series Book 2), page 1
Table of Contents
Also by Sherry A. Burton
Sinister Winds
Copyright page
Acknowledgements
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
Epilogue: A New Beginning
Connect to Sherry A. Burton
About the Author
Also by Sherry A. Burton
The Orphan Train Saga
Discovery (book one)
Shameless (book two)
Treachery (book three)
Guardian (book four)
Loyal (book five)
Patience (book six)
Endurance (book seven)
Orphan Train Extras
Ezra’s Story
Jerry McNeal Series (Also in Audio)
Always Faithful (book one)
Ghostly Guidance (book two)
Rambling Spirit (book three)
Chosen Path (book four)
Port Hope (book five)
Cold Case (book six)
Wicked Winds (book seven)
Mystic Angel (book eight)
Uncanny Coincidence (book nine)
Chesapeake Chaos (book ten)
Village Shenanigans (book eleven)
Special Delivery (book twelve)
Spirit of Deadwood (a full-length Jerry McNeal novel, book thirteen)
Star Treatment (book fourteen)
Merry Me (book fifteen)
Clean and Cozy Jerry McNeal Series Collection
(Compilations of the standalone Jerry McNeal series)
The Jerry McNeal Clean and Cozy Edition Volume one (books 1-3)
The Jerry McNeal Clean and Cozy Edition Volume two (books 4-6)
The Jerry McNeal Clean and Cozy Edition Volume three (books 7-9)
The Jerry McNeal Clean and Cozy Edition Volume four (books 10-12)
The Jerry McNeal Clean and Cozy Edition Volume five (books 13-15)
Romance Books (*not clean* - sex and language)
Tears of Betrayal
Love in the Bluegrass
Somewhere In My Dreams
The King of My Heart
Romance Books (clean)
Seems Like Yesterday
“Whispers of the Past” (a short story)
Psychological Thrillers
Storm Series
Surviving the Storm (book one, contains sex, language, and violence)
Sinister Winds (book two, contains language and violence)
SINISTER WINDS
WRITTEN BY SHERRY A. BURTON
Copyright page
Sinister Winds ©2024
by Sherry A. Burton
Published by Dorry Press
Edited and Formatted by BZHercules.com
Cover by Laura J. Prevost
www.laurajprevostbookcovers.myportfolio.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at sherryaburton@outlook.com This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
A special thanks to:
My editor, Beth, for allowing me to keep my voice.
My cover artist and media design guru, Laura Prevost, thanks for keeping me current.
My proofreader, Latisha Rich, for that extra set of eyes.
To my amazing team of beta readers, thank you for helping take a final look.
To my husband, thank you for your endless hours of researching, your help with all things genealogy, and for allowing me to bounce story ideas off of you.
Chapter One
Safe within the confines of the rescue helicopter, Abby glanced at the other evacuees and wondered if they knew she was a murderer. She forced her guilt aside as she watched Petty Officer Gomez, the Coast Guardsman who’d rescued her from the roof of her house, stand in the open doorway searching for more flood victims. Wearing a bright yellow helmet and orange flight suit with patches on the front and sleeves that went well with his dark brown skin, Gomez turned to the freckle-skinned man beside him and spoke into his mouthpiece as he extended his arm and pointed at something she could not see. The other man, who wore a white helmet and was dressed in an olive-green jumpsuit with a name patch that read “Kennedy,” moved up beside him, holding tight to a safety line secured to the roof of the chopper. Gomez tapped the man’s shoulder and pointed once more. Kennedy nodded and mouthed something Abby was unable to hear over the noise within the iron bird.
Kennedy moved aside, tapped the headset, and spoke once more. He must have been speaking to the pilot as the helicopter dipped and made a wide turn. A moment later, the helo stilled, and Kennedy clapped Gomez on the shoulder.
In a scenario that had repeated itself many times since her rescue, Gomez, who was holding on to a strap on the opposite side of the opening, lifted his hand to the guide wire, wrapped his right leg around it, and stepped out of the aircraft. He gave a nod to Kennedy, who reached for a lever to lower him. Kennedy took Gomez’s place in the doorway, bracing himself as he looked after the man. Abby closed her eyes, only to be startled awake when Gomez returned with another victim. Kennedy worked to pry the woman’s hands from Gomez’s waist. As she watched Gomez lower once more, she wondered if the scenario was actually taking place or if she was in a nightmare that kept replaying over and over. Only it couldn’t be a dream, as each time Gomez returned, he carried with him someone new. People who, like herself, had found themselves stranded on a steaming rooftop, praying for a miracle to save them.
Abby watched the opening with rapt attention, praying for the safety of whoever was out there along with the man who’d gone after them seemingly without fear.
Petty Officer Gomez might not have counted himself a miracle worker for doing the job he’d been trained to do, but to Abby and the six other passengers who had been rescued from the roof in the span of a scant few moments, the man—who looked like he was barely old enough to be out of high school—was an angel sent to them from the heavens. And each time he returned to the chopper and released his catch, those inside whispered thanks to the heavens above. Not that there was any need to whisper, as it was too loud to think, much less be heard over the roar of the helo.
Gomez wasn’t looking for approval, as within seconds of unhooking the person he’d just hoisted up, he stepped back into the opening, searching for his next conquest.
As Abby sat braced against the hard steel, watching him, she recalled her own rescue moments earlier. She’d fought him. She was sorry for that. But at the time, she thought it was her husband, Jacob, and wasn’t about to allow the man to do the vile things he’d threatened before succumbing to his watery grave. She recalled Gomez’s face when his words finally cut through the fog surrounding her brain and the look of concern as he clutched her up next to him and asked if anyone else was in the house. “My husband,” she’d said, not wishing to speak the man’s name for fear Jacob would somehow materialize and pull her into the watery grave with him.
Gomez looked at the foul-smelling water that surrounded the roof, his eyes telling her what she already knew. Jacob was indeed dead. He’d then secured her in the harness that fit under her arms and passed the strap between her legs before signaling the helicopter hovering overhead to pull them up. She felt a moment of panic when her feet left the roof, then another as her rescuer wrapped his arms around her, staring into her eyes, his boyish voice cracking as he told her she was safe, and he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her.
It was an odd statement, as if somehow he knew the hell she’d just endured, and one that had sent a chill racing up her spine even though it was much too hot for her to be cold. She’d lowered her eyes so he couldn’t see the truth—that she was happy her husband was dead.
The helicopter dipped, bringing her out of her musings. She clutched the blanket to her neck, hoping to break the chill that still had an icy hold on her. How could she be so cold when the air was so hot she found it difficult to breathe? Her back hurt. She must have pulled something when she slipped while climbing out the attic window.
The man across from her extended his arm, embracing the woman huddled beside him. Abby felt a tug on her heart as the woman leaned her head against his shoulder and watched as the man lifted his free hand to the woman’s face, wiping her tears away with his thumb. This wasn’t a show; the man truly cared for his wife. Abby knew this to be true, as the woman neither flinched nor pulled away from his touch.
Abby swallowed. There was a time she’d not been afraid of Jacob. That lack of fear evaporated on their wedding day when he climbed out from behind the mask he’d been wearing and revealed himself to be a monster. No, worse than a monster; he was ‘Il est le fils du diable—the son of the Devil. Her thoughts drifted to Eva Radoux, the voodoo priestess who’d tried to warn her that the man she was marrying had a black heart. If only Abby had been able to understand the woman, she never would have married Jacob. Abby had told herself that countless times, but as she considered it now, she knew it was a lie. In the final moments of his life, Jacob admitted to the evils she’d uncovered only hours before, further admitting that he’d killed everyone who had ever cared for her and, in doing so, had controlled the narrative of her life since birth. It was obvious she was not a match for him. Even if she had been able to understand the woman, Jacob would have found a way to convince her the Cajun woman was senile. That would have been enough.
The thought made her lips quiver. The man had a silver tongue and was the king of manipulation in that lying was an art form he had perfected. She would have believed him, just as she always had in the past and just as she had when he’d translated the woman’s words, telling her the woman was upset that she was marrying an older man. It should have been enough, and yet it wasn’t. Jacob had to control the narrative, and that narrative ended with the woman being killed. Not by Jacob’s hands, but her blood was on his hands just as sure as if he’d been the one to slit her throat. A wave of nausea washed over her. Her whole life had been a lie. She swallowed the bile that threatened.
Eva had been right—Jacob was the son of the Devil. He had to be; it was the only explanation for the way he’d treated her during their short, volatile marriage. Abby used the blanket to wipe the tears that sprang from her eyes. “It’s okay, Abby, he can’t hurt you anymore,” she whispered in an effort to console herself. She swallowed the lies she told herself as another wave of nausea threatened. She didn’t believe Jacob could no longer hurt her any more than she believed she would be able to get away with his murder. Jacob may have been the son of the Devil, but she was merely human, and even though she had acted out of desperation to protect both herself and the child she now carried inside, someone would have to pay for her sin.
Abby recalled her husband’s final words, delivered in a moment of desperation, “Even if I’m not here, they will find you.” The man was vile to his dying breath, sending out a warning she had no doubt was true. “You may have won this round, but it’s not over. Unless you die in this house with me, they will come after the child.” Jacob was dead, and even though he knew he was going to die, he carried the knowledge of who ‘they’ were to his watery grave with him. The realization brought on a new onslaught of tears.
Abby caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye and flinched.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Petty Officer Gomez? When did you get back? Abby looked to see there were two new people on board and realized the helicopter was now moving along at a fast clip. Did I fall asleep again? She didn’t think so, but surely she would have noticed the new arrivals had she been fully awake. “I must have fallen asleep,” she said, echoing her thoughts and explaining her actions.
Gomez nodded to the empty space next to her. “Mind if I sit?”
Abby took in the belly of the aircraft and realized the space was nearly full. How could she possibly refuse her rescuer a place to rest? She shrugged her indifference.
He sat down and handed her a headset and showed her how to use it. “No one else can hear our conversation.”
Abby frowned. If the guy planned on making a move on her, she would have no choice but to throw him out of the helicopter. After all, she was going to face a murder charge; she might as well make sure it stuck. “And why do you think I would want to have a private conversation with you?”
Gomez bumped his shoulder against hers. “I’m not trying to hit on you or anything. I just thought maybe you’d like to talk to get your mind off things.”
“Go ahead and talk. It’s your aircraft,” Abby replied.
He chuckled. “Technically, it belongs to the government; they just allow me to jump out of it from time to time.”
Abby smiled a weary smile. “Lucky me.” Funny, even though she’d been rescued, she didn’t feel very lucky.
“You wouldn’t have needed luck if you’d have evacuated before the hurricane,” Gomez said, stating the obvious.
What was she supposed to say to that? Somehow, she doubted he would believe her if she told him the truth—that she’d wanted to leave, but a voodoo priestess told her she had to stay. Then again, if she hadn’t heeded the woman’s warning, she would not currently be worried about facing murder charges when the authorities figured out what she’d done. “I guess as long as there are people like me, then people like you will always have job security,” she said with a shrug.
“I’m sorry about your husband,” Gomez said softly.
“Me too,” she lied.
Gomez sighed and placed his head against the skin of the aircraft. “Those bruises on your face look to be a few days old. Did he do that to you?”
Abby looked over at him and saw his eyes were closed. “Yes.”
“It’s probably a good thing he wasn’t on the roof with you.”
She was quiet for a moment until her curiosity got the better of her. “Why is that?”
“Because I would have rescued you first, and after seeing the bruises on your face, I may not have secured his harness as well as I should have.”
His words surprised her. “I thought you were supposed to serve and protect?”
“No, ma’am, that is the police. I’m just a rescue swimmer. I get to punch people if they fight me.”
“You think my husband would have fought you?”
Though his eyes were closed, a smile played at the edge of his mouth. “I would have made sure of it.”
“You’re pretty bold.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m a rescue swimmer,” he said by way of explanation. He was quiet for several moments before speaking once more. “If anyone asks, your husband drowned.”
Abby swallowed. “Of course, he drowned.”
“I know.”
Abby sat up and stared at him. “No, I mean he really drowned. You said that as if you don’t believe me.”
“Ma’am, I’m a guy. Not for nothing, but if I were in your husband’s place, I would not have taken the chance of my wife and mother of my child slipping and falling when trying to make it to the roof. I would have gone out the window first and used my strength to pull you up after me. If I think that way, so will others. I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to tell me the truth: was your husband alive when you climbed out that window?”
Abby suppressed a giggle. Not that she found his question funny; she always giggled when nervous. “Well, I didn’t shoot him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Good. So, if anyone asks, don’t stop to think about their question. If they ask why you went up first, you tell them he told you to. Then, if they persist, you tell them you learned a long time ago not to question your husband’s word. But to be honest, it is probably best just to parrot your initial response, saying your husband drowned.”
“It’s obvious you don’t believe me, so why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because I don’t blame you for whatever it was you did. My mom was in an abusive relationship for years, and it trickled down to us kids,” he said without opening his eyes. I wish she had the guts to do what you did.”
“My husband drowned,” Abby said, allowing her voice to crack as she spoke.
Gomez smiled.
Chapter Two
Kennedy approached Gomez and toed the sole of his boot with his own. Gomez opened his eyes; his hand moved to his headset. Abby knew he must have switched the channel as she watched his lips move without hearing what was said. Gomez nodded and immediately scrambled to his feet. He saw her looking and then brought his hand to his helmet. When he next spoke, she heard his words loud and clear. “Looks like you’re going to have to hang out here just a little longer. The pilot saw something he wants us to investigate.”
She nodded her understanding and started to tell him to be careful but stopped at seeing him switch the frequency once more. As she watched him strap himself to the guide wire, she wondered at the guts it took to exit a perfectly good—albeit loud—helicopter in mid-flight. There should be a medal for that. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at realizing this was the military and there most likely already was one. Not that she got the impression Gomez was doing any of this simply for the glory. While she didn’t know him, she felt this was somehow more personal than a mere way to make a living. He’d said his mother was in an abusive relationship; maybe this was his way of making up for not being able to help her. Great, she couldn’t salvage her own life, and here she was playing Dr. Phil.
