Promise Not to Tell Read online

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz

  PROMISE NOT TO TELL

  WHEN ALL THE GIRLS HAVE GONE

  SECRET SISTERS

  TRUST NO ONE

  RIVER ROAD

  DREAM EYES

  COPPER BEACH

  IN TOO DEEP

  FIRED UP

  RUNNING HOT

  SIZZLE AND BURN

  WHITE LIES

  ALL NIGHT LONG

  FALLING AWAKE

  TRUTH OR DARE

  LIGHT IN SHADOW

  SUMMER IN ECLIPSE BAY

  TOGETHER IN ECLIPSE BAY

  SMOKE IN MIRRORS

  LOST & FOUND

  DAWN IN ECLIPSE BAY

  SOFT FOCUS

  ECLIPSE BAY

  EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

  FLASH

  SHARP EDGES

  DEEP WATERS

  ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY

  TRUST ME

  GRAND PASSION

  HIDDEN TALENTS

  WILDEST HEARTS

  FAMILY MAN

  PERFECT PARTNERS

  SWEET FORTUNE

  SILVER LININGS

  THE GOLDEN CHANCE

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Amanda Quick

  THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

  ’TIL DEATH DO US PART

  GARDEN OF LIES

  OTHERWISE ENGAGED

  THE MYSTERY WOMAN

  CRYSTAL GARDENS

  QUICKSILVER

  BURNING LAMP

  THE PERFECT POISON

  THE THIRD CIRCLE

  THE RIVER KNOWS

  SECOND SIGHT

  LIE BY MOONLIGHT

  THE PAID COMPANION

  WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT

  LATE FOR THE WEDDING

  DON’T LOOK BACK

  SLIGHTLY SHADY

  WICKED WIDOW

  I THEE WED

  WITH THIS RING

  AFFAIR

  MISCHIEF

  MYSTIQUE

  MISTRESS

  DECEPTION

  DESIRE

  DANGEROUS

  RECKLESS

  RAVISHED

  RENDEZVOUS

  SCANDAL

  SURRENDER

  SEDUCTION

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz writing as Jayne Castle

  ILLUSION TOWN

  SIREN’S CALL

  THE HOT ZONE

  DECEPTION COVE

  THE LOST NIGHT

  CANYONS OF NIGHT

  MIDNIGHT CRYSTAL

  OBSIDIAN PREY

  DARK LIGHT

  SILVER MASTER

  GHOST HUNTER

  AFTER GLOW

  HARMONY

  AFTER DARK

  AMARYLLIS

  ZINNIA

  ORCHID

  The Guinevere Jones Series

  DESPERATE AND DECEPTIVE

  The Guinevere Jones Collection, Volume 1

  THE DESPERATE GAME

  THE CHILLING DECEPTION

  SINISTER AND FATAL

  The Guinevere Jones Collection, Volume 2

  THE SINISTER TOUCH

  THE FATAL FORTUNE

  Specials

  THE SCARGILL COVE CASE FILES

  BRIDAL JITTERS

  (writing as Jayne Castle)

  Anthologies

  CHARMED

  (with Julie Beard, Lori Foster, and Eileen Wilks)

  Titles written by Jayne Ann Krentz and Jayne Castle

  NO GOING BACK

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  Copyright © 2018 by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Readers Guide copyright © 2018 by Penguin Random House

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY is a registered trademark and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Krentz, Jayne Ann, author.

  Title: Promise not to tell / Jayne Ann Krentz.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Berkley, 2018.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017025348 (print) | LCCN 2017027768 (ebook) |

  ISBN 9780399585265 (ebook) | ISBN 9780399585272 (hardcover)

  Subjects: LCSH: Private investigators—Fiction. | Women artists—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Romance / Suspense. | FICTION / Suspense. | FICTION / Romance / Contemporary. | GSAFD: Romantic suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3561.R44 (ebook) | LCC PS3561.R44 P76 2018 (print) | DDC 813/.54—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017025348

  First Edition: January 2018

  Cover design by Rita Frangie

  Cover photograph © Maria Tomova / Trevillion Images

  Title page art: “Seattle skyline” © Jeffrey Hayes / Shutterstock;

  “Abstract background” © Venera Salman / Shutterstock

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

  Version_1

  For Frank, with all my love

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am very grateful to Donald Castle for the consulting advice he provided for the tech-related scenes in this story. Any and all mistakes are strictly my own. Thanks, Don! You’re the best nephew in the world!

  CONTENTS

  Titles by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  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

  C
hapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Readers Guide

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Hannah Brewster splashed the accelerant around the inside of the small cabin, working feverishly because time was running out. She was certain now that the demon would come for her that night. He had been stalking her for weeks.

  She had spent many agonizing hours trying to decide what to do. In the end she had finally understood that she had no alternative but to destroy her creation. It was her only hope of keeping the promise she had made all those years ago.

  She set the empty container down on the floor next to the door and picked up the box of matches. She was surprised to see that her hands were once again steady, just as if she held a brush and stood in front of an untouched canvas. Tonight she would paint a picture with fire.

  Afterward they would say she was crazy, that she had finally gone over the precarious edge that separated sanity and madness. But the truth was that her mind had not been this clear in a very long time. She knew exactly what she had to do.

  A few weeks ago, when the monster had come to the island the first time, she had tried to convince herself that she was hallucinating. Again. These days the past came and went in visions that were so real she often got confused. It had been twenty-two years, after all, and everyone claimed that Quinton Zane was dead.

  But two weeks ago she had spotted him again. She had tried to convince herself that she could not trust her eyes. But that night she had sensed that she was being watched. She had known then that she could no longer deceive herself into thinking that she was hallucinating. The truth was always shatteringly clear at night.

  At midnight she had picked up a brush, her hand firm and steady, and begun to paint her final picture. She had continued painting every night until her creation was finished.

  And then she had waited for the demon to return.

  For the past several days she had made the long walk into the small village every afternoon to watch the ferry dock. She stationed herself inside the shop that sold herbal teas and studied the handful of visitors who arrived. It was February and still quite chilly in the Pacific Northwest. At this time of year there was never more than a handful of tourists.

  She had spotted the demon immediately, even though he had tried to disguise himself with dark glasses, a stocking cap and a black parka. He could not fool her. She might be plagued with visions, but even her hallucinations were clear and detailed. She was an artist, after all.

  Quinton Zane was after the secret she had kept for so long. He was relentless. Now that he had found her, he would not stop until he forced her to give up the truth. After he had gotten what he wanted from her, he would kill her. She wasn’t afraid of dying. She had, in fact, been contemplating the prospect of making the final transition ever since Abigail had died. That had been just before Christmas. But she had made a promise twenty-two years ago and she had done her best to keep the vow.

  The real problem was that she feared she was not strong enough to resist Quinton Zane. The bastard could make you believe anything he wanted you to believe. She had fallen under his spell once and paid a terrible price. She could not risk getting sucked back into his web. She had a duty to protect the children. She was the only one left who could warn them.

  The odor of the accelerant fumes was almost overpowering. It was time.

  She struck one of the matches. When the flame was steady she stepped outside and tossed the match through the doorway of the cabin.

  For a few seconds nothing happened. Unnerved at the thought of failure, she plunged her fingers into the box for a second match. At that instant the fire exploded, roaring to life. The wild flames illuminated the interior of the cabin and her final painting in a hellish light.

  She watched the inferno through the doorway, studying the image with a critical eye. She had been forced to paint the picture on the wall because she had not had a large enough canvas.

  The fire devoured the cabin and the painting. The heat was intense. Instinctively she moved back several more steps, welcoming the chill of the night air off the cold waters of Puget Sound.

  She stood, transfixed by her act of destruction. Scenes from the past and the present fused in her mind. She thought she heard children screaming but she was certain that was a memory, not her present reality. There were no children nearby. She had chosen the cabin because of its remote location. She had been aware that her nighttime habits would disturb neighbors, even here on the island, where eccentricities were not only tolerated but also expected. Abigail had been the only one who understood and accepted her weird ways.

  So, no, there were no children screaming. But her heart was pounding and her breath was tight in her chest, just as it had been that dreadful night all those years ago.

  She watched the fire and waited. She was certain that he would soon appear.

  Quinton Zane emerged from the dense shadows of the thick woods that surrounded the cabin. It was as if he had walked straight out of one of her paintings, straight out of the past, straight out of her nightmares.

  She could not let him touch her. He was too strong, too powerful. If he got his hands on her, he would force the truth from her. She might be crazy, like everyone said, but she knew how to keep a secret.

  “Stay away from me,” she warned. She was amazed at the calm fortitude in her voice. “Don’t touch me.”

  But Zane broke into a run, moving toward her. His tall figure and broad shoulders were silhouetted against the storm of flames just as they had been that long-ago night when she had watched him stride through the burning compound.

  He was strong. He could easily outrun her. She would not stand a chance.

  He was calling to her now, telling her to come to him, promising safety, security and an end to the visions, just as he had promised all those years ago. But she knew he lied.

  She made her decision.

  “You were a fool to come back,” she shouted. “The key belongs to the children. Did you really think that they would forget what you did to their families? You’re a dead man. You just don’t know it yet.”

  She turned and fled into the night. Footsteps pounded behind her.

  The edge of the cliffs was lit with moonlight and fire. She had walked to that edge many, many times in the years she had been living on the island. So many nights she had stopped there, looked down at the dark, deep water far below and thought about how easy it would be to take one more step.

  In the past she had always turned back. But not tonight. A sense of deep certainty came over her.

  She realized somewhat vaguely that she was still holding the box of matches. She would not need them anymore. She tossed them aside and kept going until there was nothing but air beneath her feet, until she was flying away from the demon.

  The last thing she heard was Quinton Zane’s scream of frustrated rage. She knew then that she had defeated him, at least for the moment. It was up to others to stop him. She had kept her promise and she had sent the warning. She could do no more.
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  She knew a split second of peace.

  The dark sea took her.

  CHAPTER 2

  “You saved my life, Mr. Salinas,” Virginia Troy said. “I’m embarrassed to admit that it took me this long to track you down so that I could thank you. Embarrassed to tell you that I came looking for you now only because I need your help.”

  “No need to apologize,” Anson said. “I was just doing my job that night. You were a little kid caught up in the craziness. There was no reason you should have come looking for me as an adult.”

  The last time he had seen Virginia Troy she was a child of nine, one of the eight children trapped in the blazing barn. He’d used his vehicle to crash through the locked doors, tossed all eight kids into the SUV and reversed out of the inferno, a hound out of hell. Shortly after he had gotten them all to safety, the barn had collapsed in on itself.

  He’d saved the kids but he and the local firefighters had not been able to save all of the adults. Virginia Troy’s mother had perished, along with several other people.

  Quinton Zane had kept the women away from their children at night. They had been locked in separate quarters. Zane had torched the entire compound before he vanished. It was a miracle and a tribute to the first responders that several of the cult members had made it out alive. The following morning, when they had surveyed the ruins, it was clear that Zane had not intended for any of his followers to survive. Each one was, after all, a potential witness.

  “I have never forgotten what you did that night,” Virginia said. “Afterward my grandparents tried very hard to erase that part of my past. The stress of losing my mother and finding themselves stuck with the task of raising me eventually broke up their marriage. My grandmother still won’t talk about it. But for the rest of my life I will remember that you saved all of us who were locked up in that barn.”

  “Can’t blame your grandparents,” Anson said. He was aware of a great heaviness settling on him. “There was a lot of pain going around. You lost your mother that night. They lost a daughter.”

  “Yes.”

  Something about the bleak tone of Virginia’s voice told him that she wasn’t only mourning the loss of her mother all those years ago. He had a feeling that she carried another kind of burden as well. He recognized survivor’s guilt when he saw it because it was close kin to the kind of guilt he felt when he looked back on that night. He had not been able to save everyone in Quinton Zane’s compound.