Exclusive Excerpt: THEIR DEADLY TRUTH
Copyright © 2025 by Declan James Books
All Rights Reserved
Content Warning
Chapter One
Thirty-one years, eight months, sixteen days, two hours, and thirty-nine minutes ago…
On the last day of her life, Sonya Cashen hated her shoes. Such a stupid thing to care about, she knew. But as she ran through the yard toward the house, her heel broke as she stepped into a small divot in the front yard. Her ankle bent sideways, and she went down hard. She heard a crunching sound, and a spear of pain shot from her ankle all the way up to her heart.
It cost her a few seconds. She would wonder if it would have made a difference. If she’d worn the navy blue flats she put out last night instead of these ridiculous strappy things her mother liked. The tears came as she ripped both shoes off and flung them behind her.
“Jake!” she cried out. Or maybe she should be silent, not let him know she was here. Would it matter? Would catching him off guard make things better?
Her heart aching as she tried to catch her breath, she ran toward the house. She could see the light still on in the kitchen, glowing through the tiny window on the side of the door.
He was here. Thank God. He was here. It would be okay. She’d made it in time.
She twisted the front doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. She’d left her purse on the front seat of her car, parked across the street.
“Jake!”
He wasn’t answering. God. She knew what it meant if he didn’t answer. She reached down, fumbling for the fake rock they kept beneath the meticulously landscaped bushes. With shaking fingers, she slid open the secret compartment and pulled out the single key. She jammed it into the lock and flung the front door open.
She didn’t know her fall had created a tiny tear in the tendon of her ankle. She felt nothing. Just desperate fear. Jake was nowhere.
A square pink piece of paper from the phone pad sat on the counter. She picked it up. She read the first line and it felt like her lungs turned to mud. She couldn’t draw in air.
“Jake!” she grunted, her voice sounding like it was coming from someone else’s mouth.
She heard movement. A crash. It came from the basement. The door just off the kitchen stood ajar. She never liked it that way. Jakey had a set of drums Grandpa Max had given him last Christmas. Payback of some sort for whatever ruckus his own son, Jake, had made her in-laws suffer through twenty-five years ago. With the basement door shut, he could bang the things to his heart’s content.
A moment later, Jake stepped through. Her heart flooded with relief so heavy, she felt her knees buckle. She clutched the note against her chest.
“Jake,” she whispered. “Baby. I was worried. We’ve been looking for you.”
He turned to her, staring at her with bloodshot eyes that made the blue of his irises stand out as if they’d turned to pure ice.
“Baby,” she said, taking one step forward. He raised his right arm.
That’s when she saw the gun. Time slowed. Sonya’s head swam and she saw double. Jake put the barrel of the gun against his own temple.
“Go,” Jake said. “Get away from me.”
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. In her mind’s eye, she watched him pull the trigger. Over and over. Every time she tried to reach for him. Stop it. Hold him.
“Jake. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. I’m here. We’re going to get through this together. Remember? I told you. Just listen to my voice. I’m here. It’s me. I’m real, Jake. Just me. Just you. No doctors. I promise. We’re done with that.”
He pulled the gun away from his temple, at least. But she knew the cold expression on his face. As if his muscles had turned to granite.
“You can’t talk your way out of this,” he said. “You lie and you lie and you lie. They all do. You’re just like them. You want to kill me. Poison me.”
“No,” she said. “Jake. No. It’s me. It’s you and me. Remember what you told me? Remember what we promised? If I say it, it’s the truth. Hold on to me. Follow me, Jake.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head furiously from side to side. He knocked the gun against his own head three times as if he were trying to shake something loose inside his skull.
His tears came.
“You’re not here. You’re not real. I know where you are. I know you want him.”
“No,” she said. “I’m real, Jake. And I’m the only place I ever want to be. With you. With the kids. Our kids, Jake. They’ll be home soon. Here.” She took another step toward him and reached for his hand.
He raised the gun again. Only this time, he pointed it at her. Something happened inside her. Not fear. It was as if she were seeing everything from above. Like she’d floated to the ceiling and saw Jake and herself facing each other.
She remembered it. Seeing him. Seeing herself. A strange Déjà vu. Or a dream she’d had. How did it end?
“I love you,” she whispered. “Jake, listen to me. I love you.”
“No,” he said. “No. No. No.”
The last time, she thought. What did I say to him? She’d found him in the corner, curled up under his workbench in the basement. She’d crawled beside him, sat with him. He let her pull his head into her lap and quietly wept there as she caressed the back of his neck. As she grounded him and brought him back to her.
He needed to touch her. She hadn’t said anything. It was just her simple touch.
“Shhh,” she said as she took another step toward him. He was only a foot away. She could smell him. He dripped with sweat, reeked of body odor.
“I love you,” she said again. She kept saying it. He lowered the gun. A wave of calm went through her. She floated back to the ground. His eyes changed. He looked at her, not through her.
“Give me your hand,” she said. He let her touch him. She brought his left hand up and pressed it against her breast. She let that awful pink note flutter to the kitchen floor beside her.
“It’s me,” she said. “Feel me. Touch me. Come back to me, baby.”
God, he was beautiful. Lashes so think they didn’t look real. The curve of his full mouth, giving him that mischievous expression that always made her feel like they shared some secret. His chiseled jaw that she was always telling him not to clench when he worried. And his hands. Strong. Calloused. Before the babies, he could span her waist with them. His gentlest touch still heated her, made her feel safe, protected, loved.
Her broken boy. Scared. Lost. Clinging to her. They said she gave up everything for him. But they didn’t understand. He was everything. He could build anything with those hands. An artist. Seeing shapes and connections in things others couldn’t. He’d filled up his father’s pole barn with beautiful cabinets, coffee tables, and birdhouses. All custom pieces. Each one a work of art.
She ached for him. Missing his arms around her. Her protector. Like nothing could ever hurt her as long as he was around. The world could fall away but they would survive, thrive, together. He was all she ever needed. And their babies. Their beautiful babies. Jakey who she could look at and see her husband as a little boy. His carbon copy. Gemma with her fiery spirit and Cashen temper. Fearless. Or feral, as Grandma Ava liked to tell her. In just a few short years, she would give her father a run for his money. And Sonya couldn’t wait to see it.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Just give me the gun. Let’s put it away. Let’s go upstairs. How about a bath? The kids won’t be home for a couple of hours. We can talk. Or we can just…be. You and me. Jake, I’ve missed you so much.”
“God,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you too. It’s only quiet when you’re here.”
“I know,” she said. “Believe that, Jake.”
It happened then. The change. One moment he was with her. Seeing her. She felt his love for her in every halting breath he took. In the tiny pulse she felt in his wrist as she held his hand against her heart.
Then the clouds came in. He ripped his hand away from her. His eyes went cold. Dead. Sonya instinctively took two steps back until she had her back up against the counter.
He raised the gun again. A breeze kicked up. It cycled through the house and made the door to the basement slam behind him, loud as a rifle crack.
“No!” Jake cried. “Go away. You can’t have her.”
He was no longer looking at her. Sonya felt her skin crawl as Jake looked beyond her at the screen door leading to the backyard. The wind caught it too, making it bang open, then shut.
“It’s only me, Jake,” she said. “And it’s only you. How could you think anything else? You’re mine, Jake. This is me. Don’t you know? Don’t you feel it? It’s always been you. Us. Always.”
She saw that blasted note on the ground. She wanted to tear it to pieces in front of him.
“Sonya,” he said. “Don’t turn around. Just run.”
She could feel something behind her, but didn’t dare turn.
“No,” she said. “Look at me, Jake.”
“Get out!” Jake yelled. “I told you not to come here. Why are you here? I told you I’d kill you before I let you touch my wife again.”
She felt something tickling between her shoulder blades. As if someone were standing behind her, ready to reach out and touch her there.
“Jake,” she said. “Who is it?”
He murmured something. She couldn’t make it out.
The basement door slammed shut again, louder this time. The sound of it stung her heart. Stole her breath.
Jake’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t looking past her anymore. His eyes locked with hers. So intense was his gaze, it got hard to breathe. She felt the room spin.
He came to her. God, he was strong. She reached for him, needing his strength now. Her knees buckled.
The wind howled. It was as if autumn turned to winter in no more time than the rapid beat of her own heart.
“Stay here,” Jake said, his voice deep, commanding. He would take care of her. Always. It would be all right if he stayed with her.
Then he was on his feet. So tall above her. So hard to reach. She could hear the screen door fly open again. This time, Jake ran toward it.
“No,” she said. But she couldn’t hear her own voice. She looked down. The yellow dress she wore turned red. So strange. She tried to wipe at the stain. Her hand turned red too.
“Jake,” she croaked. But he was gone.
The wall phone was just a couple of feet away from her, but Sonya couldn’t make her body move. She felt stuck in tar. She took a halting step forward, gripping the counter to keep her balance. She grabbed the receiver but the effort of it was all she had left. She sank slowly to the kitchen floor, the phone clutched in her hand. A moment passed.
“Help,” she tried to scream. Hoping the operator would come online. Where was the damn operator? She could no longer reach the keypad. All she heard was the infuriating hum of a dial tone.
She saw her daughter’s face swimming in front of her. Her son.
“Gemma,” she whispered. Her eyes went to the side of the refrigerator. She had two 5×7 photos of the kids. Last year’s school pictures. Jakey’s hair stuck straight up on one side. He had a cowlick that refused to lay flat and he’d caused such a fuss about getting a haircut, Sonya hadn’t found it worth the battle. Jake found it hilarious. He said Jakey looked just like Dennis the Menace, which was fitting. Jakey. Her baby.
And Gemma. She refused to smile in the photo. She was stunning anyway. Everyone said she looked just like Sonya. She did, in her way. But Gemma was so like her father in every other way.
So like her father…
Gemma. Gemma. Sonya tried to reach for her. Tried to call out to her. But Gemma simply stared silently at her from that photograph, eyes blazing. Stubborn. Fierce.
The room grew dark and cold. Sonya held onto Gemma’s eyes.
“Help him,” Sonya whispered. “I’m so sorry. Take care of them all.” The basement door slammed shut one last time, sounding just like a gunshot.
Chapter Two
Present Day…
Gemma sat beside him, her blonde hair whipping around her face. Jake stole a quick glance at her and smiled. She kept a cool eye on the back of the boat. Her chin jutted out, her jaw set slightly off to the side.
Jake heard yelling, but couldn’t make out the words over the boat’s engine. “Signal!” he shouted. He told his sister half a dozen times. She was looking at the wrong thing and it was about to make things dangerous.
Jake circled and ran through his own wake. He heard his nephew Ryan’s laughter behind him.
“Gemma!” Jake shouted. “Is she down?”
Gemma shook her head and circled an index finger around her head. Jake nodded. He made a wide-arcing turn toward shore. From the corner of his eye, he saw the ski rope go slack. His skier waved; she jumped the wake easily and coasted gracefully to the sandbar.
“She’s good!” Ryan said, beaming as he pulled up the rope slack. Jake aimed toward the dock. By the time he got there, Peyton had already tossed her skis and hopped up, ready to grab the dock ropes.
“She grew up on a lake,” Ryan said. “Devil’s. Up in Irish Hills. Michigan.”
Jake nodded. Gemma went to the back of the boat and helped Peyton tie it off as Jake cut the engine. Ryan jumped off and joined his girlfriend. They were arm in arm as they walked up the dock toward Virgil Adamski’s house.
Virgil sat on the porch under the shade provided by the second-floor balcony. He lived alone now. His son and daughter had moved across the country. He told Jake to think of this place as his own. He didn’t use the boat much except for fishing.
Jake got up and worked the ropes on the starboard side. Ryan and Peyton were already on the porch, talking to Virgil. Ryan hadn’t removed his arm from around Peyton’s waist. Gemma made a noise. A scoff. Then she plopped back in the passenger seat, staring hard at her son.
“What?” Jake asked, knowing he’d regret it.
“He’s all over her,” she said. “Like he’s afraid she’s gonna float away if he doesn’t keep his damn arm on her ass.”
Jake laughed. “It’s not that bad.”
“That bikini covers nothing,” Gemma said. “It’s like three Post-it notes.”
“Gemma, come on. She’s what, twenty? You wanna know the truth? She looks a hell of a lot like you did at that age. Grandma and Grandpa used to tear you a new one every time you came down in bathing suits that looked pretty much just like that one. She seems like a nice kid. More importantly, Ryan’s good with her. Respectful. He opens doors for her. Carried her bag in.”
“He’s following her around like a puppy,” Gemma said. “He needs to focus. It’s gonna be a tough season. His coach is depending on him to be a leader now that he’s gonna be an upperclassman.”
“Name one thing that girl has done to offend you besides turning your son’s head?”
Ryan and Peyton disappeared inside Virgil’s house. Virgil gave Jake a wave.
“Will you talk to him?” Gemma turned to Jake.
“About what?” Again, Jake figured he’d come to regret asking.
“Do you think they’re…um…sleeping together?”
Jake had to swallow a laugh. “Gemma, come on.”
“No. I know. Of course they are. He’s almost twenty. I mean, really. How many times does a kid his age think about…you know?”
“Are you a prude all of a sudden?”
“Jake!”
“All right. All right. Yeah. I don’t know. A lot.”
“Well, then you have to talk to him.”
Jake stepped off the boat onto the dock. He held out a hand to his sister. She took it begrudgingly, but planted her feet in a wide stance, arms crossed. Jake wasn’t going to be able to make a clean getaway from this conversation.
“About what?”
“You know what!” Gemma managed to shout and whisper at the same time.
“He’s almost twenty. He’s been away at college for two years. Don’t you think that particular ship sailed a long time ago? You mean to tell me you haven’t had the talk with him?”
“It’s different. I’m his mother. He needs it man to man.”
“For Pete’s sake, Gemma. You want me to tell him to wrap it? He already knows.”
“It’s not just that,” she said. “I just want him to…you know…like you said…be respectful.”
All her bravado vanished, which was pretty rare for his sister. It had been her default setting since they were kids.
“He’s a good kid, Gemma,” Jake said, his tone gentle. “You raised him right. He’s not like his dad.”
That too was a sore subject. Ryan’s dad, Gemma’s first husband, hadn't really been in the picture. Jake had been away during most of her relationship with him. But Gemma was a dirtbag magnet when it came to men. Her second husband, Dickie Gerald, had laid hands on her before Jake came back to Blackhand Hills. Ryan had been around that.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll check in with him,” he assured her. “But don’t worry about him. I’m not. Not in this area. And Peyton seems sweet.”
He was right that she reminded him of Gemma at that age. At least physically. Dazzling bright eyes, a killer smile. Personality-wise, Peyton couldn’t be more different. She was sweet, polite, maybe even a little gullible. A kid. Gemma hadn’t been a kid since she was twelve-years-old. She’d been forced to grow up overnight when they lost both their parents.
“Thank you,” she said. “I just don’t want him to do anything stupid.”
“Anything you did?” Jake teased. She shot him a murderous stare. It was true though. Gemma had been a wild child. Rebellious. Head strong. She’d driven their grandparents crazy. The chaos agent in their lives.
Jake put his arm around his sister and led her up to the house.
“How’s it running?” Virgil asked. Peyton came out the sliding door. She wrapped a skirt around her waist and twisted her hair up into a knot. She had deep dimples in both cheeks as she handed Virgil a fresh, tall glass of lemonade.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked him as she stood beside him and put her hands on his shoulders. “I made some cowboy caviar. I can bring you a plate with some tortilla chips. The kind you can scoop.”
“They’re telling me I gotta watch my salt,” Virgil said, bitterness in his tone.
“I got low-sodium chips,” she said. “The dip’s all healthy stuff. Beans, corn, salsa. Ryan said you’re watching what you eat. I made it just for you. I really appreciate your letting me spend the day here. I’ll grab you a plate.” Peyton leaned in and kissed Virgil on the head before springing back through the sliding door. Virgil blushed.
“That girl’s an angel,” Virgil said. “A keeper.”
Gemma snorted. Jake gave her a gentle backhand to the arm.
“He could do worse,” Virgil said, catching Gemma’s resting bitch face. “Hell, you did do worse.”
“Okay!” Jake said, seeing the first signs of Gemma’s eruption. “Gemma, go in and grab those patties out of the fridge. I’ll get the grill going.”
She eyed him, but took the cue. She grabbed her black swim-cover up off the clothes line beside the porch and slipped into it. With an angry eye on Jake, she went inside.
“Whooo, boy,” Virgil laughed. “That is one keyed-up Mama Bear. Can we trust her to behave?”
“I think so,” Jake said. I hope so, he thought to himself.
To Jake’s memory, Ryan only had one other girlfriend in High School and it hadn’t lasted very long. Peyton was definitely different. Gemma was right that he was clinging to the girl like Velcro.
“The girl’s got the right idea,” Virgil said. “Kill her with kindness.”
The slider opened. Virgil went quiet as Peyton stepped back out carrying paper plates with chips and dip. She handed one to Virgil and the other to Jake.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Cold beer in that blue cooler you’re about to sit on,” Virgil said. Jake reached in and grabbed a bottle. He picked out a water for Virgil and got the stink eye when he tossed it to him.
Ryan came out carrying a tray of burger patties. “I’ll get the grill started,” he said cheerily. Peyton followed him over to the side yard.
A moment later, Jake heard tires crunching on the gravel driveway behind them. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as a car door slammed.
“Who’s that?” Virgil asked.
It was Birdie. Jake’s friend and fellow detective. She was wearing a suit and had her badge hanging around her neck. She had a somber expression as she walked up.
“Hey Virge,” she said, stepping onto the porch. Like Peyton, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You look good. Like you’re putting some weight back on.”
Birdie stole a chip from his plate.
“What’s up?” Jake asked. She gestured with her chin. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to talk about it to anyone but him. Which meant it wasn’t good news.
Jake put his plate down and followed her back to her car. He was off for the next four days, but Birdie was working a make-up day.
“I’m sorry to come grab you,” she said. “Max said this is where I’d find you. I tried to call.”
Jake’s phone was currently in the glove-box of his truck.
“We just got off the boat,” he said.
“I figured. Look. There’s been an incident out in Navan Township. Deputy Bundy called it in about thirty minutes ago. He was first on scene.”
Jake sighed and blinked with heavy eyelids. “What have we got?”
“Two victims,” she said. “Married couple. Both with gunshot wounds. Their dog walker found them. From what Bundy said, it sounds pretty gruesome. Landry wants you on it.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Of course.”
Gemma came around the front of the house. Brow furrowed, she looked at Birdie.
“Sorry, Gemma,” she said. “I don’t mean to disrupt your day.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Does he have to leave?”
Jake turned to her. “Looks like I do.” He walked over to his truck, reached in, and grabbed the keys from under the visor. He tossed them to his sister. She caught them one-handed.
“I’m their ride,” he explained to Birdie.
“Will you be back?” Gemma asked. He turned to Birdie. With pursed lips, she gave him a quick headshake.
“Might be pulling an all-nighter,” he told his sister. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Can you at least get him home in one piece for me?” Gemma asked Birdie.
Birdie smiled. “Roger that.” Then she slapped Jake on the back and nudged him toward the passenger side of her car.