Only by Death Read online

  What people are saying about …

  Only by Death

  “Just when you think it’s over, it’s not … and the tension mounts. Young Jesse is brave, spunky, and lives out his faith. I want to be like Jesse when I grow up!”

  Roxanne Henke, author of After Anne, book 1 in the Coming Home to Brewster series

  “Kathy Herman’s Only by Death hinges on a subtle principle from God’s Word that points the reader to the secret of happiness and holiness—a secret discovered sooner or later by all true servants of the Savior. Readers of all ages will readily identify with the protagonist in this highly engaging read. Only by Death is not your typical murder mystery.”

  Eric Wiggin, MsEd, speaker, author of The Gift of Grandparenting and The Hills of God, rewritten as The Recluse

  “Only by Death, book 2 of Kathy Herman’s Ozark Mountain Trilogy, is filled with action, suspense, and surprises, as well as thought-provoking questions about what it really means to live the Christian life. Looking forward to book 3!”

  Julianna Deering, author of the Drew Farthering Mysteries

  “What does it really mean to put God’s will ahead of your own? Kathy Herman explores the question in a heart-stopping story that kept me on the edge of my seat from the very first line until the final page. Only by Death is a riveting book that will challenge your own concept of obedience and linger in your heart.”

  Carol Cox, author of the Arizona Territory Brides series

  “Only by Death is not an easy read, just as the Christian life is not a sunny afternoon stroll. But the journey this book unfolds is worth the tension and danger. Both heartwarming and chilling.”

  Lyn Cote, USA Today bestselling author

  “The tension in Kathy Herman’s newest book builds slowly, then erupts and leaves you wondering—and worrying—clear to the end. One of her best so far, especially in the faith thread. It will challenge you at a deep level, making you question where you would stand if the same things happened to you. I highly recommend Only by Death—truly a must read.”

  Miralee Ferrell, award-winning author of Runaway Romance, also a TV movie

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  A Note from the Author

  Discussion Guide

  ONLY BY DEATH

  Published by David C Cook

  4050 Lee Vance Drive

  Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.

  David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications

  Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England

  The graphic circle C logo is a registered trademark of David C Cook.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes,

  no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form

  without written permission from the publisher.

  The website addresses recommended throughout this book are offered as a resource to you. These websites are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement on the part of David C Cook, nor do we vouch for their content.

  This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica, Inc.

  LCCN 2017952633

  ISBN 978-1-4347-0476-4

  eISBN 978-0-8307-7271-1

  © 2018 Kathy Herman

  Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc, 7680 Goddard St., Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  The Team: Alice Crider, Jamie Chavez, Amy Konyndyk,

  Nick Lee, James Hershberger, Jack Campbell, Susan Murdock

  Cover Design: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design

  Cover Photo: iStock

  First Edition 2018

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

  013018

  To Him who is both the Giver and the Gift

  Acknowledgments

  This is the first time in my writing career that my husband is not here with me to celebrate the release of a new book. My sweet Paul—best friend, business manager, sounding board, ardent supporter, and the other half of my heart—stepped into eternity before this book was finished. I have yet to find words adequate to describe how much I miss him. But though he’s absent in body, his words of wisdom and encouragement still echo in my heart and mind, reminding me of why I do what I do. My success, to a large degree, is the result of Paul’s partnership in my writing ministry, and his unselfish willingness to work our personal life around my deadlines and commitments. Without his support, understanding, and prayers, I would never have been able to write professionally. I am forever grateful.

  I love Arkansas! After moving to the rolling hills of East Texas from the Front Range of Colorado, I discovered that anytime I missed the mountains, I could travel to nearby Arkansas to satisfy that longing. I chose the Ozark Mountains of northwest Arkansas to provide the backdrop for this series and many of the images I describe in the story. However, Sure Foot Mountain, Angel View Lodge, Raleigh County, and the town of Foggy Ridge exist only in my imagination.

  During the writing of this book, I drew from several resource people, each of whom shared generously from his or her storehouse of knowledge and experience. I did my best to integrate the facts, as I understood them. If accuracy was compromised in any way, it was unintentional and strictly of my own doing.

  I owe a special word of thanks to Retired Commander Carl H. Deeley of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department for helping me to understand the finesse of obtaining a child’s eyewitness statement; ways to legally obtain DNA evidence when a warrant is not justified; why and when an Amber Alert is issued; details about autopsies, postmortem bruising, and covert surveillance; and how a mobile command post is equipped and operated. Carl, you generously gave of your time and expertise. You’re a joy to work with!

  I want to thank my reader friend, Paul David Houston, former assistant district attorney, for advising me on trusts and power of attorney. Pa
ul, we go back a long way. You’ve always been a trusted source of information. Thanks!

  To my novelist friends in ChiLibris, who allow me to tap into your collective storehouse of knowledge and experience—what a compassionate, charitable, prayerful group you are! It’s an honor to be counted among you.

  To Nancy Godsey, Betty Mix, Martha Shelton, Sharon Mayville, and Gloria Langford, my friends at the Waterton Inn in Tyler, Texas, for falling in love with my books. Your newfound excitement lit a fire in me during a difficult year when grief had snuffed out my creativity. You will never know how God used you. He is faithful!

  I’m immensely grateful to my faithful prayer warriors: my sister Pat Phillips; dear friends Mark and Donna Skorheim, Susan Mouser, and Susie Killough; my online prayer team—Pearl Anderson, Judith Depontes, Jackie Jeffries, Joanne Lambert, Diane Morin, Kim Prothro, Kelly Smith, Carolyn Walker, and Sondra Watson; and my friends at LifeWay Christian Store in Tyler, Texas, and LifeWay Christian Resources in Nashville, Tennessee. I cannot possibly express to you how much I value your prayers.

  To my agent, Lisa Jackson, at Alive Communications, for being such an advocate for this series. I never have to wonder if you’re looking out for my best interests.

  To my editor, Jamie Chavez, for never being afraid to speak the truth—but with such grace. Thanks for affirming, instructing, and inspiring. Your suggested improvements to this story proved immeasurable. I’m looking forward to working with you again.

  To Cris Doornbos, Dan Rich, Alice Crider, and the amazing staff at David C Cook publishers for believing in me and investing in the words I write; thanks for all you’ve done to support my writing ministry, and for giving me the opportunity to finish this series. I have loved being a part of the Cook “family” for an entire decade.

  And most important, thank you, Heavenly Father, that I am Your handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which You prepared for me before I was ever born. Open the hearts of my readers to see and understand that it is only by death that we live, only by death that we find our true selves. Let my words glorify Your Name.

  Prologue

  “For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.” Romans 8:13

  Liam Berne was about to commit murder—at least according to Arkansas law. He blocked out the voice of his railing conscience as he clutched tightly to the wheel of his old Chevy Caprice, bumping and rocking over an unmarked road that led to a secluded bank on the Sure Foot River. Tall leafy trees and short-leaf pines lined both sides of the road and formed a tight verdant canopy, allowing only an occasional glint of sunlight to peek through.

  He glanced over at his elderly mother, who had started rambling again.

  “I do love ridin’ the roller coaster,” Dixie Berne declared, sounding as if she actually knew what she was saying. “But Roland’ll have a conniption if he finds out I threw away hard-earned money on a carnival ride.” She folded her hands in her lap and exhaled loudly. “How much farther’s the church? We’re fixin’ to be late for the weddin’!”

  “It’s just over yonder,” Liam said, trying to sound calm.

  “Who’re you?”

  “I’m your son, Liam.”

  “You can’t drive without a license, young man.”

  Liam smiled, then reached over and gently clasped her wrist. “It’s okay, Mom. I passed my driver’s test.” Nearly forty years ago.

  “Carry me to the bus stop!” she said, her voice suddenly frantic. “I need to get home and fry my chickens. Aunt Lena and Uncle Jack are comin’ for supper.”

  Liam swallowed hard and rolled down the windows. He could do this. He had to do this. It might be his only chance. “Let’s go to the beach. I know how you love the water,” he said. “Smell that salt air? Feel the sea breeze?”

  His mother giggled, her soft white curls tossed about in the crosswind of balmy September air passing through the open windows. “Okay, but don’t tell Mama I haven’t finished the ironin’.”

  His mother’s delight soon turned to silence. Once again, she seemed distant, her eyes vacant and seeming to stare at nothing.

  Liam glanced at his watch. If he could just keep his mother from getting out of hand in the next few minutes, her troubles—and his—would be over.

  He had agonized, getting to this decision. Some would surely contend that what he was about to do was vile. Or, at the very least, immoral. It certainly wasn’t legal. But it was kinder, more humane, than letting his mother’s life drag on for years in this useless state while his parents’ life savings went to pay the Alzheimer’s hospital. Using that money to prolong her pitiful existence was unfair to everyone.

  Colleen would never see it that way. His sister had been given power of attorney in their mother’s affairs and was willing to use every cent available to her to ensure that their mother was well-cared for and comfortable. And why not? Colleen didn’t need the money. She was single with a full-time teaching position, thirty-year tenure, and a good pension when she decided to quit. She had never been married or divorced. How could she understand what it was like to deal with a greedy ex-wife who never once held a job yet managed to get half of everything he’d worked for and eighteen months of alimony on top of that?

  Liam sighed and glanced in his rearview mirror. Colleen had no clue how humiliating it was for him, at fifty-two years old, to be working full time at the poultry plant, and living under his sister’s roof because he was too broke to pay rent. When Colleen asked him to move in and share the responsibility of caring for their mother at home, in lieu of paying rent, he was sincerely glad to help. But he was equally motivated to keep Colleen from spending their inheritance on their mother’s long-term care.

  That had worked for six months. But his mother’s memory was getting worse, and she wandered away from the house more and more frequently. Colleen insisted they consult with the folks at Foggy Ridge Alzheimer’s Center. The doctors there convinced Colleen that their mother should be admitted to that facility as soon as a bed opened up. Liam pretended to go along with it, but he had already decided what he would do if things played out that way.

  “Stop!” His mother’s agitated voice brought him back to the present. “Let me out this instant, or I’ll call the police!”

  “But we’re almost to the beach.”

  She cocked her head and looked over at him. “Why, John Dillard. I haven’t seen you in months. How’s Monique?”

  “She’s just great.” Liam exhaled audibly. Just great.

  His mother’s attention suddenly seemed focused on the buttons of her pink dress as she rambled on and on about getting together with girl friends to sew pearls on Cousin Margaret’s wedding dress.

  Between the trees, Liam spotted the glistening ripples of the river about fifty yards ahead of him. “Mom, look.” He pointed his index finger toward the front window. “We’re at the beach.”

  “Hush. Can’t you see my baby’s sleepin’?”

  “Right. Sorry.” Liam drove the car through some tall weeds and parked it in the shade of a cottonwood tree. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, considering what he was about to do. This was the only choice that made sense. And this might be his only chance to end the madness. Did he have the courage to go through with it?

  “Who’re you?” his mother asked for the umpteenth time.

  “Come on. Let’s go to the beach.” He doubted he would have much trouble convincing her they were in Galveston—at least long enough to do what he came to do.

  Liam got out, his gut feeling as if someone had kicked it and left a shoeprint.

  He spit out his gum and walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. He took his mother’s fragile, bony hand and gently pulled her to her feet.

  “Where am I? I want to go home!” His mother held tightly to his hand, wearing t
he expression of a lost child.

  Liam took her face in his hands. “Mom. Mom. Look at me.” Her expression softened and she seemed to recognize him. “We’re in Galveston. Let’s go swimming. We can stop at Winky’s and get a snow cone,” he said, his tone playful and coaxing.

  Her dull blue eyes lit up like a child’s at Christmas. “I want grape!”

  “Now that’s more like it. Let’s go.” Before I talk myself out of this.

  Liam glanced in all directions and saw no one. But he’d never seen anyone here. He took his mother’s arm and walked through the weeds and down a dirt path to the river’s edge.

  “Oh, Roland!” she exclaimed. “You brought me back! Thank you! What a surprise!”

  “Come on. It’s a beautiful day for a swim.” Liam led her into the tepid water up to her shoulders.

  His mother looked around, her thin white eyebrows scrunched. “Who’s gettin’ baptized?”

  “You are, Dixie,” he said.

  His mother just stared blankly.

  Liam, feeling as if his heart were being pummeled like a punching bag at the gym, kept his arms tightly around his mother. He had rehearsed this a dozen times. Keeping her head held firmly to his chest, he lowered himself into the water, up to his neck. His eyes stung as she wiggled and fought in vain for a gulp of air, and he fought the urge to change his mind.

  “Mom, don’t fight it,” he said, his voice shaking. “Please, just let it happen. You’ll be with Dad soon. I’m doing this for you.” Really?

  Liam silenced his conscience. This was the merciful thing to do, and the only way of ending her life that wouldn’t produce incriminating evidence on an autopsy. He refused to accept that, by society’s standard, it was murder.

  Liam waited several minutes after his mother stopped fighting before he brought her limp body to the surface. He checked her pulse. Nothing.

  He took his thumb, his hand trembling, and closed her eyes, tears clouding his vision as his mind flashed through a lifetime of memories of when his mother was vivacious, quick-witted, and nurturing. Dixie Regina Anderson Berne had lived a full life and had been a wonderful wife and mother—and a proper southern belle. But Alzheimer’s changed all that, having stolen her beauty, her memory, her dignity, and any meaningful interaction with others. How could he sit by and let it take every last cent she had planned to leave her children? Maybe Colleen could, but he couldn’t.