Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz
UNTOUCHABLE
PROMISE NOT TO TELL
WHEN ALL THE GIRLS HAVE GONE
SECRET SISTERS
TRUST NO ONE
RIVER ROAD
DREAM EYES
COPPER BEACH
IN TOO DEEP
FIRED UP
RUNNING HOT
SIZZLE AND BURN
WHITE LIES
ALL NIGHT LONG
FALLING AWAKE
TRUTH OR DARE
LIGHT IN SHADOW
SUMMER IN ECLIPSE BAY
TOGETHER IN ECLIPSE BAY
SMOKE IN MIRRORS
LOST & FOUND
DAWN IN ECLIPSE BAY
SOFT FOCUS
ECLIPSE BAY
EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
FLASH
SHARP EDGES
DEEP WATERS
ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY
TRUST ME
GRAND PASSION
HIDDEN TALENTS
WILDEST HEARTS
FAMILY MAN
PERFECT PARTNERS
SWEET FORTUNE
SILVER LININGS
THE GOLDEN CHANCE
Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Amanda Quick
THE OTHER LADY VANISHES
THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
’TIL DEATH DO US PART
GARDEN OF LIES
OTHERWISE ENGAGED
THE MYSTERY WOMAN
CRYSTAL GARDENS
QUICKSILVER
BURNING LAMP
THE PERFECT POISON
THE THIRD CIRCLE
THE RIVER KNOWS
SECOND SIGHT
LIE BY MOONLIGHT
THE PAID COMPANION
WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT
LATE FOR THE WEDDING
DON’T LOOK BACK
SLIGHTLY SHADY
WICKED WIDOW
I THEE WED
WITH THIS RING
AFFAIR
MISCHIEF
MYSTIQUE
MISTRESS
DECEPTION
DESIRE
DANGEROUS
RECKLESS
RAVISHED
RENDEZVOUS
SCANDAL
SURRENDER
SEDUCTION
Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Jayne Castle
ILLUSION TOWN
SIREN’S CALL
THE HOT ZONE
DECEPTION COVE
THE LOST NIGHT
CANYONS OF NIGHT
MIDNIGHT CRYSTAL
OBSIDIAN PREY
DARK LIGHT
SILVER MASTER
GHOST HUNTER
AFTER GLOW
HARMONY
AFTER DARK
AMARYLLIS
ZINNIA
ORCHID
The Guinevere Jones Series
DESPERATE AND DECEPTIVE
The Guinevere Jones Collection, Volume 1
THE DESPERATE GAME
THE CHILLING DECEPTION
SINISTER AND FATAL
The Guinevere Jones Collection, Volume 2
THE SINISTER TOUCH
THE FATAL FORTUNE
Specials
THE SCARGILL COVE CASE FILES
BRIDAL JITTERS
(writing as Jayne Castle)
Anthologies
CHARMED
(with Julie Beard, Lori Foster, and Eileen Wilks)
Titles written by Jayne Ann Krentz and Jayne Castle
NO GOING BACK
BERKLEY
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1745 Broadway, New York, New York 10019
Copyright © 2019 by Jayne Ann Krentz
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Krentz, Jayne Ann, author.
Title: Untouchable / Jayne Ann Krentz.
Description: First Edition. | New York : Berkley, 2019.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018029359| ISBN 9780399585296 (hardback) | ISBN 9780399585302 (ebook)
Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Suspense. | FICTION / Suspense. | FICTION / Romance / General. | GSAFD: Romantic suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3561.R44 U58 2019 | DDC 813/.54—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018029359
First Edition: January 2019
Cover photo by Karina Vegas/Arcangel
Cover design by Rita Frangie
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
Contents
Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NI
NE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
About the Author
For Frank, with all my love
CHAPTER ONE
Fifteen years earlier . . .
She was fourteen years old and sleeping in yet another bed. The little house on Marigold Lane looked cozy and welcoming from the street—lots of curb appeal, as the real estate agents liked to say—but she had decided that she would not be there for long.
Every few weeks when she got tired of life on the streets she checked into the foster care system long enough to take some hot showers and score some new tennis shoes or a new pair of jeans or a new backpack. She had figured out early on that a backpack was essential to survival on the streets. The one she had picked up last month had a large rip in it, thanks to the junkie with the knife who had tried to steal it. The junkie was no longer a problem but the wounded pack had to be replaced.
She rarely stayed in a foster home for more than a few days. Sooner or later, there were issues. This time the problem would be the husband. His name was Tyler. She had privately labeled him Tyler the Creep.
She had seen the way he looked at her two days ago when she arrived with her ripped backpack containing all her worldly possessions: a few clothes, a hairbrush and a toothbrush, and the battered copies of Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner.
Initially she had not been concerned; merely inconvenienced. She could handle Tyler the Creep but it meant that she could not go to sleep at night. Creeps like Tyler had a lot in common with roaches—they came out after dark.
The situation, however, had gotten a lot more complicated that afternoon when the social worker had arrived on the doorstep with another foster kid. The girl’s name was Alice. All she had with her was a small rolling suitcase. She was eleven years old and she had been orphaned when her father’s private plane had crashed on takeoff. Alice’s mother had been a passenger. Both parents had been killed. Alice had been in school at the time.
Dazed and traumatized, she had said very little except her name and that her aunts would come for her.
Later, when she and Winter were alone in the bedroom, she had repeated the same thing over and over.
“My mom and dad told me that if anything ever happened to them, I should call my aunts. They will come and get me.”
During her short stays in various foster homes over the course of the past year, Winter had heard similar claims. Mostly the tales turned out to be sparkly little lies told by well-meaning parents who had wanted to reassure their children that some adult family member would always be there for them; that they were not alone in the world. That they had family to protect them.
But after several months of floating in and out of the system, she knew the truth. There were no aunts, or, if they did exist, they weren’t going to magically appear to rescue Alice. Sure, there might be a few distant relatives somewhere but there would be a thousand excuses why they couldn’t take a kid into their household. We’re too old. We barely knew that side of the family. Our lifestyle won’t allow us to take the child. We travel too much. We can’t afford to take her. We have other children who would be upset. The child has severe emotional problems that we’re just not equipped to handle . . .
Winter sat on the top bunk, legs dangling over the edge. The new backpack was on the bed beside her. She wore the jeans and the hoodie that she’d had on during the day. She always slept in her clothes. It made for more efficient departures.
She had a penlight in one hand. In her other hand she gripped her copy of Winnie-the-Pooh. Earlier she had read some of the stories to Alice. Alice had said that she was too old for Winnie-the-Pooh, but the gentle stories had soothed her. She had eventually fallen into an exhausted sleep.
A few hours ago the new foster mom had been called away to deal with a family crisis involving one of her own aging parents. Tyler the Creep was now in the front room, drinking and watching television.
Winter had taken the precaution of locking the bedroom door but she had known that wouldn’t do any good. The creep had the key.
It was another half hour before she heard the doorknob rattle. When Tyler the Creep discovered that the door was locked, he left. For a moment she entertained the faint hope that he would not return. But of course he did.
She heard the key in the lock. The door opened. The creep was silhouetted against the light of the hallway fixture, a balding, big-bellied man dressed in an undershirt and trousers.
He did not see her sitting there in the shadows of the upper bunk. He moved into the room, heading toward the lower bunk.
He reached down and started to pull the covers off Alice’s thin, huddled body.
“Go away, Mr. Tyler,” Winter said. She switched on the penlight and began to move it in an intricate pattern. “You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t want to be here.”
She kept her voice calm; soothing but firm.
Startled, Tyler halted and instinctively averted his gaze from the narrow beam of light.
“What the hell?” In the next breath he softened his voice to a drunken croon. “What’s the matter, honey? Couldn’t sleep? I know it’s hard adjusting to a new house and a new family. But you’re in a good home now. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you and Alice.”
“Go away, Mr. Tyler,” Winter said again. She kept the penlight moving, faster now.
Tyler was distracted by the light. He stared at it; looked away and then gazed at it again.
“I’m going to take poor little Alice to my bedroom,” he said. “She’s afraid to be alone.”
“Alice is not alone,” Winter said. “I’m here with her. Go away. You don’t want to be in this room. It’s hard to breathe when you come in here. You can’t catch your breath. Your heart is pounding harder and harder. You wonder if you’re having a heart attack.”
Tyler did not respond. He was transfixed by the motion of the light. He started to wheeze.
“When I say Winnie-the-Pooh, you will realize that you can’t breathe at all when you’re in this room,” Winter said. “You will leave. That is the only way to ease the terrible pain in your chest. If you stay in this room you will have a heart attack. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Tyler’s voice was now that of a man in a trance, expressionless.
The rasping and wheezing got louder.
“Winnie-the-Pooh,” Winter said in a tone of soft command.
Tyler came out of the trance gasping for air.
“Can’t breathe,” he said, his voice hoarse with panic. He swung around and lurched out into the hallway. “My heart. Can’t breathe.”
He staggered down the hallway and stumbled toward the kitchen. Winter jumped down to the floor.
“Winter?” Alice whispered from the shadows of the lower bunk.
“It’s okay,” Winter said. “But you have to get up and get dressed. We’re going to leave now.”
A heavy thud sounded from the kitchen. It was followed by an unnatural silence.
“What happened?” Alice asked.
“Stay here,” Winter said. “I’ll go take a look.”
She went to the door. With the penlight in hand she moved cautiously down the hall. Alice climbed out of bed but she did not wait in the bedroom. She followed Winter.
Tyler was sprawled on the kitchen floor. He did not move. His phone was on the floor close to his hand. Panic arced through Winter. She wondered if she had killed the creep.
Alice came up beside her and took her hand, clinging very tightly. She looked at Tyler’s motionless body.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“I do
n’t know,” Winter said. “I’ll check.”
She released Alice’s hand and crossed the kitchen floor. She stopped a short distance away from Tyler and tried to think about what to do next. In the movies and on television people checked the throat of an unconscious person to find out if there was a pulse.
Gingerly she reached down and put two fingers on Tyler’s neck. She thought she detected a faint beat but she couldn’t be certain. He might not be dead yet but it was possible that he was dying. It was also possible that he was simply unconscious and would recover at any moment. Winter knew that neither outcome would be good for Alice or herself.
“Get dressed,” Winter said. “Put everything you brought with you back into your suitcase. I don’t know how much time we have.”
Alice regarded her with big, frightened eyes. “Okay.”
She turned and ran back down the hall. Winter followed. It did not take long to gather up Alice’s few possessions. The little suitcase had not been completely unpacked.
On the way out Winter paused at the kitchen door. Tyler the Creep was still on the floor; still not moving.
“Hold on a second,” she said to Alice. “I’m going to call a cab.”
She used the phone on the kitchen counter. Tyler stirred just as she finished the call. He opened his eyes. He stared at her first in disbelief and then in gathering rage and panic.
“You did this to me,” he wheezed. “You’re killing me.”
“Winnie-the-Pooh,” Winter said.
Tyler gasped, clutched at his chest and collapsed again, unconscious.
Winter reached down into his pocket, took out his wallet and helped herself to the seventy-five dollars she found inside. She considered the credit cards for a moment and opted to leave them behind. Credit cards left a trail.
She dropped the wallet on the floor beside the phone and looked at Alice.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Alice nodded quickly.
A few minutes later they climbed into the back of the cab. The driver was obviously uneasy about picking up two kids in the middle of the night but he did not ask any questions beyond confirming their destination.
“You want to go to the bus station?” he said.