Deadly Secrets by Phillipa Nefri Clark (Charlotte Dean Mysteries Book 3)
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB
Keeping secrets can be deadly . . .
The charming town of Kingfisher Falls is the place former psychiatrist Charlotte Dean now calls home. When she stumbles across an old, shallow grave in the bushland carefully decorated with flowers, Charlotte feels compelled to investigate.
The trail leads to an unsolved case of a runaway. Is it possible that the young woman didn’t leave town after all? Meanwhile, there’s a new face in Kingfisher Falls–a clairvoyant who is winning the favour of the locals. But Charlotte can’t bring herself to trust the mysterious woman.
As Charlotte’s search reveals more important clues, her attempts to uncover the town’s secrets could prove to be a deadly pastime. It seems someone is out for revenge and now their quest for revenge includes Charlotte . . .
The top of the falls offered a bleak outlook so early in the morning. It was the beginning of her first winter in Kingfisher Falls. Light wind collected the chill from the river, and shivering, Charlotte gathered her trench coat around her neck. Heavy mist covered the pool below, rising to the lookout in the distance. The tallest trees poked through the swirling whiteness, peppering it with strange shapes.
She’d stood here for a while—since what passed for dawn. This spot beside the top of the waterfall still called her. And rather than the trek down difficult terrain then up a long and tricky set of broken steps, Charlotte had discovered a new path home.
Earlier this year she’d had a scare at this spot and ran away along the river as it rushed to the falls. She’d not known where it led but noticed a narrow path back to the main road. Since finding the back gate in her garden, she’d uncovered lots of new tracks and trails. One wound through the corner of bushland to meet the river. Much quicker and less exhausting. And as safe as any other trail around Kingfisher Falls.
She turned for home. This path was pretty with early sunlight filtering through the canopy of ghost gums to sparkle on the slow running water. She passed the turn off to the main road. Home was a fast-five-minute walk. But it was through dense bushland once the river veered away. And when the undergrowth closed in, as always, a shiver went up Charlotte’s spine.
There are no bunyips in here!
Since her first view of this sprawling tract of bush a few months ago, something kept Charlotte from venturing too far in. She’d teased herself about the mythical Australian creature more than once, yet the fear lingered, and she hurried.
An internet search of the area once showed her the reach of the land. Many hectares of native trees and bushes but little in the way of walking tracks, except around the perimeter. According to signage around the land, it was owned by the Kingfisher Falls Shire Council and it wasn’t designated as anything other than shire land. Not as a park, or recreation area. Few locals used it, although Charlotte sometimes came across people walking their dogs.
The trees cleared as the path joined a wide, rutted track. A few hundred metres further and the back of the bookshop came into view. Charlotte stopped for a moment, her attention on the window from her upstairs apartment overlooking the bushland. In the months she’d lived there, she’d never seen the bushland from the room thanks to a wardrobe blocking the window. Today this would change. Trev was dropping by to help her move it. With a smile, Charlotte got going, letting herself into the garden through the back gate and locking it.