Buried Alive

By Donnette Smith

As a clairvoyant, Jenna Langley has foreseen her fair share of murder. But the night she is haunted by visions of a woman buried alive in a makeshift casket, nothing prepares her for the chilling reality that the victim she saw in her vision is herself.
Having survived a recent tragedy, and now tasked with the duty of planning her wedding, everyone attributes Jenna’s disturbing dreams to stress. Even her fiancé does his best to convince her she is perfectly safe.
But someone wants revenge and Jenna is the target of that obsession. Her only hope for survival is if her fiancé, Detective Cole Rainwater, can root out who wants her dead before time runs out.

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Mar 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781509240838

Donnette Smith

Although not a native Texan, Donnette Smith has spent more than half her life living in the Lone Star State. She is an entrepreneur and former business owner of Tailor Maid Services LLC. After spending a few years working as a journalist for the Blue Ridge Tribune, she realized her love for writing romantic detective novels. Her stories cover a wide range of genres, from horror, time travel, mystery, fantasy, paranormal, and thriller. But one theme stays the same, there is always a detective solving a crime, and a gorgeous victim he would lay down his life to protect. Donnette’s biggest fascination is with forensic science and crime scene investigations. Her first mystery/suspense novel, Lady Gabriella, was published in 2008. Her second novel was a horror/mystery/suspense titled Cunja and debuted in 2012. Her newest novel, Killing Dreams is a fantasy story and is soon to be released.

Book preview

At the same time a sharp intake of breath filled her lungs, Jenna’s eyes snapped open. Blackness surrounded her; panic set in instantly as soft whimpers set off a series of echoes. It took a moment for it to sink in the sounds were her own.

Raising both hands, her palms struck a hard object not a foot above her head. She slid her palms over a rough surface, searching, feeling across the top and down the sides of what felt like a wooden crate.

That embodied her like a tomb.

She let go a shriek, crying out in agony, No! no! please, no! There was no doubt she was in the very place that stoked the deepest fear in her heart. Just the way her vision forewarned. She was buried alive.

Praise for Donnette Smith

The author craftily drops bits and pieces, like breadcrumbs for us to follow until the plot is fully revealed.

~ Oya Pearl.

~*~

Mrs. Smith presents subplots with expert timing, allowing the reader a chance to catch their breath.

~ Jack S

~*~

I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for an original story that is well written and crisp!

~ T.G Reaper

~*~

I could not stop reading this book. It is filled with Mystery, and Love. It keeps you guessing. What will happen next? I can’t wait for her next book.

~ Linda Barbane

Buried Alive

by

Donnette Smith

Spirit Walker Series, Book 2

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either 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.

Buried Alive

COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Donnette Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kristian Norris

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2022

Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4082-1

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4083-8

Spirit Walker Series, Book 2

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

When I think of dedications for Buried Alive, the first person who comes to mind is my fabulous editor at The Wild Rose Press, Kaycee John. She is the one who encouraged me to write my first series. And so, I find myself embarking on this exciting journey to keep Jenna Langley and Cole Rainwater running around in my imagination. I would like to thank all my fans who regularly participate in my contests and are always supportive and encouraging in my writing endeavors. Kellie Griffin, my dear niece, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your support and your generous spirit for sharing my work with others. And thanks to the one person in my life who has been my everything since my teenage years, my husband, Allen. He patiently sits without my company so many nights so that I can create adventures and bring characters to life. He doesn’t know that he is the gentleness, the humor, and the courage in all my male heroes.

Chapter One

The woman in the wooden crate pounded her fist against the ceiling. High pitched shrills echoed off the walls. No! no! no! Oh God, please…somebody get me out of here!

Her voice caught on a long, desperate whimper. The strong odor of pine wood mixed with human urine overpowered the dank air inside the makeshift casket, making Jenna Langley sick to her stomach, and bringing with it the awful realization the woman had been confined to this space for quite some time.

Claustrophobia threatened to cut off her air like a boa constrictor. Being in this dark grave for only a minute witnessing the suffering of this poor soul sent feral panic racing through Jenna’s veins. She couldn’t imagine being caged in here this way, buried in the ground, waiting to die.

Although this wasn’t Jenna’s fate—it was a premonition given to her, an open window to the future by way of a dream—this was a reality for the person left alone in this box to die. It didn’t matter how many clairvoyant visions she received. Each one had been as terrifying as the first. And the people who were the target of her premonitions were not a figment of her imagination. Their deadly ordeals were as real as the rising sun.

Loud beeping erupted inside the crate, startling the victim, causing her breathing to increase. The beeping stopped, and a dim light toward the foot of the pine box snapped on, putting off as much light as the striking of a lighter in a pitch-black cave would have. The faint humming of a fan reverberated against the walls, and infrared digits blinked from the ceiling, just above the woman’s face. Jenna recognized the contraption as a time clock, counting down two hours.

The victim let out a tortured wail. God, please don’t let me die. I just want to see him one more time.

As the thought of who the woman could be referring to swirled around Jenna’s mind, she gazed down at the victim’s tormented face. The light radiating from the bulb at the foot of the casket allowed Jenna just enough of a visual to recognize the eyes she stared into were her own. She gasped, and the realization of who the woman wanted to see one last time exploded through her like a rocket.

Cole! Jenna screamed, bolting up in bed.

Cole stirred in the bed next to her. What…what is it?

Her breathing came fast as she clicked on the bedside lamp and struggled to speak. I…I saw myself in a…a casket buried in the ground.

What? His arm wrapped around her shoulders. What happened?

Somebody put me in a wooden box. They buried me and put a timeclock in there with me. It was counting down from two hours. I heard a fan blowing from somewhere inside. I…I think when the timeclock reached zero, the fan in the box would cut off. I wanted so badly to see you one more time before I died.

Tears streamed down her face, and Cole drew her into his arms. It’s okay, honey. It was just a dream. You’re not going to die. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.

She shook her head, shrinking away from him. After what happened last time, how can you say it was just a dream?

He stared at her, as if willing her to listen to reason. Jenna, my father has been dead for more than five months now. He can’t hurt you ever again.

I know that, she said, slipping out of bed and heading toward the bathroom.

Jenna reentered the room, donning a robe and tying the sash. You know better than anyone what happens when I get these premonitions.

That’s not going to happen this time.

How do you know?

Who would do that to you and why?

She peered down, shaking her head. I don’t know. But every time I’ve had one of these visions, it has come true.

You’re right, he admitted, getting up, grabbing his boxer shorts off the floor, and sliding into them. He approached Jenna, taking her by the arm, and gently twirling her to face him. I would give anything to take back what my father did to you, what he did to our daughter. I wish I would have known he was still alive, that he planned to go after you and Emily. I feel so badly for not believing you when you were having all those visions. I could have prevented everything if I’d have just listened to you.

She shook her head adamantly. None of that was your fault. You couldn’t have known your father was running around killing women. We all thought he committed suicide by setting himself on fire in that van years ago. Even the authorities were convinced of it. There was no way for us to know he was still alive and planned to kill me and kidnap Emily.

Cole rested his chin on top of her head. I thank God every day you and Emily are safe.

It’s because of you that we are. You rescued us. Me and Emily are so lucky to have you.

He squeezed her tight, then released her, kissing her forehead. Know what I think? Our wedding is only a few weeks away. And you have been working tirelessly making sure every detail is taken care of, all while recuperating from your car accident. Perhaps the stress of all of this was the cause of your bad dream.

It wasn’t a dream.

She stepped over to the window, stood in front of it, and gazed out into the darkness. What if it was happening all over again? The haunting visions, and then the dead bodies being discovered soon after. Was she a fool to have believed the death of Joseph Rainwater would bring an end to this nightmare? The man was gone with a bullet in his head. The medical examiner pronounced him dead at the scene. Cole was right, he couldn’t hurt her.

But somebody wanted to.

It was too real to be a dream, she admitted more to herself than to Cole.

What about that professor you told me about. The one you consulted with when you were having your visions before?

She peered at him. You mean Professor Delaney?

The one from the Paranormal Research Center.

What about her?

If this is worrying you, maybe you should go see her.

Jenna munched on her lip. The woman had certainly been a tremendous help the last time. There was a possibility the professor could apply her knowledge on the subject and decipher the meaning of this disturbing vision. You know, I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.

I get those sometimes. It may be purely accidental though.

She grinned, spinning on her heels to face him. Even dipshits have their moments.

Hey, he said, coming toward Jenna mischievously. He took her by the waist, lifting her into the air. I’ll have you know I resemble that.

Jenna chuckled, staring into his eyes as he slid her back down. You mean, you resent that.

No, I meant resemble.

She pursed her lips. So, you agree you’re a dipshit?

Now that was just uncalled for.

What? You were the one who said it.

I said it to make you laugh. You weren’t supposed to agree.

Oh, yeah? So, what are you going to do about it?

He gazed into her eyes until the reflection of jest in his transformed into desire. First I’m going to kiss you, he said, capturing her lips in a slow, lazy caress.

The tingling sensation spiraled from Jenna’s head down to her toes. It had always been this way every time Cole touched her. He had the commanding ability to turn her insides into jelly. And he didn’t even have to put an ounce of effort into it.

He dragged his lips down the inside of her neck, saying in a husky voice, Then I’m going to drag you over to that bed and seduce you. Any objections?

I would object if you didn’t.

I knew you’d see things my way, he said, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.

Even as the love of her life carted her toward the bed for some midnight indulgence, the memory of her earlier dream burned in her gut. The sooner the professor could be contacted, the quicker she could get some answers. Hopefully, Cole was right, and this incident was nothing more than a nightmare brought on by stress.

****

It was nine a.m. by the time Cole strolled through the doors of the Farmersville PD. He would have been here an hour earlier if he hadn’t overslept. It was Jenna’s fault. Between the nightmare and the lovemaking, a few hours’ sleep was all a guy could manage. But exhausted or not, it had been worth every minute. He found sleep a rare commodity ever since the day she’d moved her belongings into his house. At some point they would have to barricade themselves from each other to get on with a normal, productive life. He hoped that day would never come.

Glad you finally decided to join us, detective, Jeremy Gibbs, his partner at the precinct said, as Cole ambled toward his office. There’s an attorney who has been calling you for the past hour.

What attorney?

Gibbs shrugged. How am I supposed to know? His number is on your desk.

Cole stepped into his office and glanced at the note sitting on his desk. The Carter Law Firm. Contact Jim Carter. He took note of the phone number, sat down, and snatched up the phone.

After two rings a woman answered. The Carter Law Firm. How can I direct your call?

This is Detective Cole Rainwater. I have a message that Jim Carter wanted to speak with me. Is he in?

Let me transfer you.

Good morning, Detective Rainwater. This is Jim Carter speaking. I’m glad you called me back.

Sure, Cole said, wondering what on Earth the man wanted.

I’m the successor trustee for your great-grandfather’s will. He passed away last month, and I—

Let me stop you right there. My father, who is now deceased, was put into foster care from infancy. He was never adopted out, and the identity of his parents are unknown to this day. You have the wrong person, Mr. Carter.

I assure you I don’t, Mr. Rainwater. You are the son of Joseph Rainwater, correct? According to my sources, you were raised by your uncle, Derek Rainwater, after your father was placed in a psychiatric ward. Is that correct?

Now the man had Cole’s attention. Those are some pretty good sources you have.

I wouldn’t have made this call if I didn’t know for certain you are the person I need to speak with.

Okay. So, who is this great-grandfather I never knew existed?

His name was Hershel Rainwater. He owned two estates and was a sixty percent shareholder in a very lucrative business. You’ve heard of Toys Galore?

I believe they’re one of the biggest toy distributors in the United States.

And abroad. Your great-grandfather started the company twenty years ago.

So, why are you calling me? I’ve never even met the man.

Hershel had two beneficiaries named in his trust. You are one of them.

Cole’s brows furrowed. I don’t understand. I’ve never laid eyes on the man. Why would he list me as a beneficiary in his trust?

I’d like to say it was done out of obligation and a sense of selflessness. But Hershel Rainwater was a narcissist. He was well known for his ruthless behavior. He was one of those guys you didn’t cross unless you were willing to have your life turned upside-down.

So much for beating around the bush. Sounds like a real sweetheart. So, what was it about me, a great-grandson he never interacted with, that caused him to have a change of heart?

It wasn’t you. It was a guilty conscience eating at him after all these years. His daughter was raped. Years after her death he capitalized on that rape. He never forgave himself for it.

Being that Cole’s father had turned out to be a serial killer, he imagined cold heartedness must run in his family. I’m going to have to ask for an explanation.

I figured. Hershel’s daughter, Jasmine worked as an intern for a well-known senator. She was raped and impregnated by that same man and later died. Hershel waited until after her death to blackmail the senator. He offered the politician an ultimatum. Either he could pay Hershel a substantial amount of money, or he planned to go to the media with the truth. He had proof of the rape.

An image of Cole’s young daughter, Emily flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t imagine doing anything so unforgiveable to her. He’d kill any bastard who was brave enough to harm one hair on her head. He let out a whoosh. I see. I’m betting Jasmine was my grandmother.

Yes.

And what about the child she was pregnant with?

You mean children.

Twins?

Two boys. She put them up for adoption. She refused to report the rape. The senator was a powerful man with a lot of influence, and she was afraid of what he would do to her if she went to authorities.

Ahh. My father, Joseph, and my uncle, Derek, were the twin boys she put up for adoption.

That’s right.

You said there were two beneficiaries named in Hershel’s trust. Who is the other one?

Your younger brother, Dunston Rainwater.

Cole drew the phone away from his ear and stared at the receiver. How in the hell did he have a brother all these years and didn’t know about it? So, now you’re telling me I have a younger brother? You’re just full of surprises, Mr. Carter.

Your mother, Charlotte was pregnant when she abandoned the home she and Joseph shared years ago. She left a few weeks after the authorities had Joseph committed to a psychiatric hospital. Of course, she didn’t know she was pregnant at the time.

If his mother had dealt with Dunston the same way she dealt with Cole—abandoning him to the possibility of becoming a ward of the state—there was no telling what kind of upbringing the kid suffered through. Fortunately, his psychotic father had enough sense to bring him to his twin brother’s doorstep, Derek, to raise when he was a toddler. Cole chalked it up to the only meaningful thing his father had ever done for him. Then the man went on a killing spree that spanned more than eighteen years. Cole still cringed every time the memory of the atrocious deeds his father had committed surfaced. He imagined the shock and dismay of those discoveries would never go away.

Listen, I’m going to be in my office around three o’clock today. Would it be possible for you to meet me here? We need to sort through Mr. Rainwater’s trust.

Cole frowned, leaning back in his chair. To be honest, Mr. Carter—

Call me Jim.

Okay, Jim. I don’t have any interest in anything Hershel might have left for me after his death. I didn’t know he existed, and apparently, I wasn’t important enough for him to have sought me out when he was still alive. I’d prefer not to be a part of whatever guilt he harbored that made him feel he needed to leave an estranged great-grandson an inheritance. I’ve done just fine so far without him or his money, or whatever it is he felt obligated to leave me. I do have a question though.

Shoot.

How the hell did you know where to find me?

Mr. Rainwater paid a lot of money to certain folks to keep tabs on you and your brother over the years.

Cole grinned derisively, fighting the urge to hang up the phone. With all Hershel’s resources, he never thought to reach out to him or Cole’s newfound brother. It seems to me he had more money than he had sense. After all, it appears he missed the most important thing in life. Family. His money couldn’t buy the people who mattered most.

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