Don't Speak for Me a Death and Donuts Thriller Book 2

By Martha Henley

Unspoken words can save or take a life. (It's the unspoken words of a killer that are deadly.)
Reina Dawkins has three stressful life events in one day. Her unmarried daughter announces she’s pregnant, she catches her husband in bed with another woman, and one of her terminally ill clients passes away. To save her sanity, fate pushes her to a remote RV park. Her decision is to live life or let it’s problems overwhelm her.
Deep in the Texas hill country, there’s a house that holds a dark family secret. Brothers, Nick and Fred Walters live there together and manage the nearby Rose Rock RV Park. The residents talk of the ghost of Eden’s Garden, a place the Walters boys seldom acknowledge exists. Hidden in the woods, not far from the trailers are graves left by the previous generation of Walters. Born to serial killer parents, murder runs in both brother’s blood. One has shut his mouth to show his family loyalty. The other is killing to keep his family together.
When Reina arrives, her background in caring for special needs clients, concerns her neighbor. Nan is a regular member of the Crew. This group of murder enthusiasts, agree that a woman with Reina’s sills is in danger and shouldn’t be living so close to the Walters house. Only the Crew has gathered sufficient evidence to inform and hopefully protect Reina from the serial killer that continues to toil their parent’s soil nearby.
Even though she’s been warned, caregiver, Reina accepts the dinner invitation from a killer. Her survival opens wounds and challenges family bonds. One Walters sibling will pay the ultimate price for murder and the other will loose everything.
Don’t Speak For Me is the second standalone book in The Death And Donuts Domestic Thriller series. Read all of the secrets buried in a tiny trailer park in Texas, buy Martha Henley's suspenseful novel today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pace Bend Press
• Release date: Mar 20, 2020

Martha Henley

I believe serial killers exist. Do you?Join Martha Henley’s newsletter to read stories by an author who enjoys writing about not-so-happily ever afters.www.marthahenley.comWhen not writing, I stand around having unfinished conversations with random strangers. (I work retail.) These exchanges are the best for protagonists and antagonists inspiration. Keep walking by everyone!

Book preview

Chapter One

Under the cover of night, a stoic figure made his way through the woods. He traveled the path from memory since he’d buried many in the garden that year. It’d been a long day. Exhaustion threatened, but the grave digger pressed on. It was his lot in life to put shovel to earth, open it up, and toil in an unholy garden.

He tirelessly clashed metal to the rocky dirt of the Texas hill country. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and back, but he continued on. His hands and face stayed covered in the red soil. The ground gave up a distinguishable aroma. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminisced over a childhood memory.

Back then the woods had been his playground, he’d followed his father into them many times. Nearer to home, his mother had buried her hands in her own garden. She would say, death breeds life. She’d rip up withering plants and bury them with fresh seeds for new beginnings. His mother’s musings impressed solid convictions upon young Fred. He believed as his parents did: all things that wanted to live, lived. Things desiring to die, died.

A crisp chill wind cut through him. He wiped the dripping from his nose on his sleeve. It nearly froze on the red and black flannel of his well-worn coat. Time was cutting shorter. Sunup would bring wanderers to the woods. He grunted with each turn of his spade to get the work done faster.

Bury the dead to save the living, he thought as the hole grew in size to accommodate the latest victim to give up on life. His burden was heavy, but it was his to carry.

From inside the grave, Fred looked up at the starry night sky. Now that he was an adult, his reach easily got him out of the ground. He was reminded of a time when he’d been much smaller and less brave.

On one occasion, Fred and his older brother, Nick, had been left on guard in the garden while father returned home for the bulging sack to be buried. They had acted innocent of their part in their family secret. Fred had been kept mostly in the dark, but Nick had known the whole truth of why they dug holes in the woods.

Taking a false step, Fred had twisted his ankle and landed at the bottom of an empty grave. The edge was so far away he’d panicked, terrified to see dirt tumble down to cover him. He had clawed to get out, pleading that he wanted to live. Life had never felt so short to a young boy.

Above him, Nick had remained calm. Although unable to reach him alone, he had lowered the shovel, explaining that Fred could dig himself out. One boy had encouraged the other that it would work and Fred had trusted his brother with his life. He’d dug the hole bigger, and stood on the fresh turned earth. Determined not to die, Fred had escaped his early burial.

The two boys became men who remained inseparable. When the toughest of times challenged them to turn on each other, family loyalty prevailed. Fred owed his life to his brother and proved his gratitude to him many times over.

His work still not done, he flattened out a pre-made grass cover and hastened to cover the grave before the orange of the morning sun warmed his woods.

From his pocket, he took out a spiral notebook and unfolded it. Keep track of the souls, he reminded himself.

The pencil tucked in the spiral was small, but sharpened to a point. Fred made sure he was always prepared. He brought the lead tip to his lips and kissed it. Then opened the notebook to the recording page and wrote, Wednesday, February Twenty Fifth. On the next line he wrote, dug the grave in Eden.

Finished with his entry, he slid the pencil in the spiral, folded the notebook in half, and tucked it back in his pocket.

On the return trip through the woods, he covered his tracks, wiping away his footprints with a swaying motion of the back of the shovel. Watch every step. Leave no trace. Our garden. Our secret, tomorrow can’t be caught. He repeated words his father had whispered in his ear when Fred was a child. Don’t tell anyone or they’ll dig up the dead earth and rip our family apart.

#

Chapter Two

Awhite banner popped up on the screen of my phone, which shone bright in the cup holder of my car. Since I was driving, I barely got a half a second to see the sender’s name. It was from my college-aged daughter, Arely, and I knew what she was texting.

Where are you, Mom? It read.

Of course I was driving to meet her for lunch, so she had to text to see where I was. I’d like to have texted back, running late, but I didn’t. The restaurant was still a few miles away. With good luck and hitting every green light, I’d arrive before a second inquiring text came through.

It was my fault that I hadn’t seen Arely in months. We lived in different Austin suburbs, but her studies and my fluctuating work hours kept our communication mostly in broken text conversations. Neither one of us enjoyed fighting traffic across the hilly back roads to get to the other side, so to speak. We lived life apart, but I wished we were closer.

Before entering the restaurant, I fluffed my hair and dabbed some lipstick on while fast-pace walking to the door. Never was one to take extra time for lip liner. My daughter was lucky I was smearing lipstick on at all.

I could see her pacing just inside the logo-covered glass doors. As I neared, she pushed them open. You didn’t answer my text, Arely accused, in a stance of hers I knew too well. She was leaning against the door with her arms crossed and looked just like she had when she was ten and caught me in telling another lie about her father. I stuck up for him far too much.

I was driving. You told me not to text and drive. I shrugged, stepping in past my grown up little girl. Two please, I said to the hostess then turned to Arely. I could’ve handled driving and answering you.

No. Don’t text and drive.

Then don’t text me when you know I’m in the car, I argued, following the hostess back to a booth table. We settled with menus and Arely apparently gave up the fight and turned to look over the menu.

Tell me why you decided to take the semester off, I said, bringing up the excuse she’d given to meet for lunch. My daughter had always been a flighty kind of girl, jumping from one hobby to the next. I was completely surprised when she’d finished her first year at college and even moreso when she returned in the fall for the second year with the same major.

I’ll have iced tea, she said to the waitress, handing over her menu. And a club sandwich. No mayo.

I’ll have water with lemons, but put them on a plate on the side. I glanced down to the menu, closed it and handed it up. Bring me the same. A club with no mayo.

The waitress left and Arely explained herself. There’s this opportunity I have to make some good money selling candles, but I’ll need a quiet place to work that’s clean. I don’t want to move back home cause dad’s always watching his action movie marathons. My lease is up with Ayrianna. She’s going to New York City with some guy about a public relations position at some big company. I’d love to go with her, but I’d be in the way and I’m not too terribly good at PR anyway, Arely rambled on.

How I’d raised a daughter that talked so much concerned me. I considered myself a person of few words. Straight and to the point. She over-exploited every detail. It had hurt my head when she was a kid.

Why don’t you stay with your grandpa? He has an extra room. I can call him.

No, mom. That’s not what I’m asking. She rubbed her temples. Is there any way you can afford to pay for a studio apartment for me to live alone?

I’m not sure that’s the answer. You’re asking a lot.

Drop it. Forget I asked. She took her phone out and scrolled on her screen.

I hated when she turned on me that way. I was financially stable enough to afford a place for Arely, but her father had insisted on teaching her grownup responsibilities. I knew what he’d say to the situation. If Arely wanted to drop out of college for a business venture then she’d have to afford to take the chance on her own. It was how my father-in-law had built his business. Ironically, my husband, Sam was the opposite. He worked for his father by logging in on his laptop then spending the day doing anything but work.

My husband’s lazy work ethic had pushed me out of the house. I stayed busy with my clients. With Arely on her phone, I checked my own for the time. What is taking the food so long? I’ll have to run to my next appointment. Grace is spiraling. Don’t know how many more visits we have together.

How is Grace? She’s the one with the Disney figures in her room. Right? Arely asked as our club sandwiches were set down.

Grace doesn’t remember my name most days. I brush her hair and make sure she eats. There’s this one doll on her shelf. I paused to check that the sandwich was correct with no mayo. She tells me every day that she got it at Disneyland when she was five. It’s Alice and the real Alice gave it to her.

Does everyone lose their mind in the end? Arely asked. I mean what is the use in bringing a child into the world if someday you forget who they are.

That’s an odd thing to come out of your mouth, I said, waving the waitress away. I stared my daughter down and she finally sprung the real reason why we were meeting for lunch.

I think I’m pregnant, mom.

It was awful, but I sat there silent with my mouth dropped open. An alarm on my phone buzzed, echoing the sudden throbbing in my head. Did my daughter just say what she said? I turned the alarm off. It was reminding me to leave. I texted the office to send another caregiver to Grace’s.

Are you going to say anything? Arely stared at me all hopeful for my answer.

I can’t finish this in here. I pushed the sandwich to the side. How could you? Why didn’t you? I don’t understand how you could be so careless.

It was difficult sitting across the table and not reaching to hug Arely. She’d stopped eating and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders.

I moved next to her. I didn’t know you were this serious about anyone you were seeing.

I’m not. Mark and I broke it off, but not until we had one last night together.

Honey. I patted her knee and she hung her head. Mark’s not good for you. He’s not dad material.

I know that. It’s why I left him. I don’t want to have his baby. She stammered, I—I —don’t want to repeat ... She stopped herself cold.

We both knew where the sentence was going. I’d married Arely’s dad because I was pregnant with her. The marriage had been over since it started. I’d hoped I’d kept my unhappiness hidden from her. During her troubled teen years I’d found out she felt the tension in the house and wished I’d just divorced him and moved on.

Could you just ask dad for the keys to Grandpa’s trailer? I know he has one near the lake. I could stay there until I figure out what to do next.

I guess I could discuss this with your dad.

Why? Just take the keys. He doesn’t have to know. He won’t even care.

I needed just a moment to think it over. My daughter came first, not my husband. You’re right. I’ll swing back by the house right now. I can drop them off at your work and still make it to my next client.

Thanks, Mom. I wouldn’t ask, but I don’t want to see him.

I understand. Don’t understand how you’re pregnant, but I’m on your side. We’ll get through this together.

#

Chapter Three

An unfamiliar car was parked on the street in front of my house when I arrived to get the trailer keys for Arely. Didn’t think much about it as I walked in. My neighbor was religious and had Christian women’s group meetings at her place pretty regularly. Once inside I quickly reevaluated who the driver of the car could’ve been.

There was a purse, not mine, on the floor near the sofa. On the coffee table was a phone and key fob. I walked a few steps to the hall. From that distance, I couldn’t see inside the master bedroom, but the door was open. I distinctly heard my husband and a woman talking. Leaning on the sofa, I slipped the straps of my heels off and placed the shoes on the carpet, then tiptoed down the tiled hall to the edge of the open door.

My heart pounded as I listened in on a conversation that I imagined had happened several times over the course of my marriage.

You’re for real this time. Aren’t you, Sam? I really want you to be, the woman said.

Bile crept up my throat and I held it in as I listened to my husband’s calming response to her.

You’re the only one I want. She’s cold. Not like you. Your smooth back and perkiness all over is in my thoughts all the time. I’ll make sure we’re together soon. I promise, lover.

You make me so happy. I can’t wait to have you all to myself, all the time.

I heard kissing noises and Sam moaning. I covered my mouth, holding in an upchuck of a scream and deciding which to do, run out of the house or turn the corner and confront them.

I’ll leave her after I get my end-of-year bonus. Let her suck off a dirty old pecker to pay for a lawyer. Mmm, right there, baby.

Is this true? the woman delightedly asked. Is Reina having an affair? Can you claim infidelity?

Seriously! I stormed through the doorway. My husband was sitting up in bed naked, with the hussy sitting between his legs. You would claim infidelity on me?

Reina! You’re home! In the middle of the day. Sam jerked a blanket up and over to cover himself and his lover. I can explain. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Lisa and I were …

Don’t waste your breath. I get it. I marched straight to his desk and searched for the trailer keys.

He doesn’t love you, Lisa said.

Don’t talk to me bitch, I snapped, turning around. Her wide-eyed look set me off. You can have this cheating asshole. I looked Sam in the eyes. For your information, I never once cheated on you. You’re a lazy, self-centered bum. I work double shifts to get away from you. I deserve better and so does Arely. Just tell me where you keep the keys to your dad’s trailer.

They’re in the kitchen. In the basket on top of the fridge, Sam answered.

That was all I needed. I turned and left. Sam stepped into some pants and followed me. He was still zipping up as he caught up with me in the kitchen.

Why do you want the trailer keys?

Keychains and dangling flashlight things jumbled in a mess as I tried to fish out the right set. It infuriated me to ask, but focusing under pressure wasn’t my strong suit. Please untangle them and put them in my hand. I held out my palm.

A few excruciating seconds later, Sam did one thing I’d asked him to do. The smaller ones are for the utility doors.

I’ll figure it out. I quickly left to pack a bag in the bedroom. Thankfully, Lisa was sitting on the sofa with her eyes on her phone.

Can we talk about this? Sam asked, following.

Sam. Lisa whined.

I’ll give you a no contest divorce. We both know it’s been over for awhile. I pulled down a suitcase from the top shelf in the closet. It landed at my feet with a thud. Sam reached to pick it up. Back off. I shoved him away, picked up the case, and tossed it on the bed. He laid it on, with a thick layer of smooth talking. Just shut up! I finally turned to him. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t care anymore.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. Can we talk about this?

No. I picked up Lisa’s bra that was at my feet, knotted it and pushed it into his hands. Returning to the closet, I