Praise for the novels of
ROBYN CARR
“The Virgin River books are so compelling— I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.” —New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber
“Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!” —New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers
“A thrilling debut of a series that promises
much to come.”
—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler
“Jennifer is a beautifully drawn character whose
interior journey is wonderful to behold.”
—RT Book Reviews on Runaway Mistress
“This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”
—Book Reviewer on Blue Skies
“Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful,
thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”
—Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley
“A remarkable storyteller.”
—Library Journal
“A warm, wonderful book about women’s
friendships, love and family. I adored it!”
—Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street
“A delightfully funny novel.” —Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party
WHISPERING
ROCK
ROBYN CARR
Michelle Mazzanti and Kristy Price,
an author’s best friends.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to Pamela SF Glenn, CNM, MS—without whose expertise in midwifery this story would not have been possible. My deepest gratitude for poring over manuscript after manuscript with sharp eyes and a ruthless pen, keeping me straight. And to Sharon Lampert, RN, WHNP, for sharing her expertise as a women’s health nurse practitioner, but mostly for picking up your phone no matter where you were and answering delicate questions about female anatomy and function with directness and honesty. I’m sure there are people out there still talking about what they overheard in the grocery store, beauty parlour and Department of Motor Vehicles. The passion and devotion with which you two professionals serve your women patients is inspiring, and was an enormous help in shaping the character of a dedicated nurse practitioner and certified nurse midwife.
Thanks to Paul Wojcik for sharing your experiences in the United States Marine Corps, and to Richard Gustavson, RN with twenty-three years in the Navy Reserves. I thank each of you for reading the manuscripts and for offering your invaluable technical input.
Kris Kitna, Chief of Police, Fortuna, California, thanks for valuable information on local law enforcement, not to mention help with details about hunting, fishing and firearms.
Kate Bandy, the best assistant a writer can possibly have, my dear friend of many years, thanks not only for reading copy and offering suggestions, but especially for accompanying me on an exciting research trip to Humboldt County. Without you there I would have floundered … or slipped off a mountain. Denise and Jeff Nicholl—thanks for reading first drafts, taking exhaustive notes and answering a million questions. Your friendship and support during the whole process means the world to me. Many thanks to Nellie Valdez-Hathorn for her help with my Spanish.
Other early readers whose input was critical included Jamie Carr, Laurie Fait, Karen Garris, Martha Gould, Pat Hagee, Goldiene Jones and Lori Stoveken—I’m deeply in debt to you for your comments and suggestions.
Huge thanks to Clive Cussler, Debbie Macomber and Carla Neggers for reading and commenting on the Virgin River series in the first place. For you to take the time, with your busy schedules, is a monumental compliment.
Huge thanks to Valerie Gray, my editor, and Liza Dawson, my agent, for your commitment to helping me craft the best series possible. Your hard work and dedication made all the difference—I’m so grateful.
To Trudy Casey, Tom Fay, Michelle Mazzanti, Kristy Price and the entire staff of Henderson Public Libraries, thank you for the monumental support and encouragement. I’ve never known a more hardworking and motivated group of public servants.
And finally, thanks to Jim Carr for your loving support. And, my God, thank you for cooking! I wish I’d known years ago that you could!
One
Mike Valenzuela was up and had his Jeep SUV packed long before sunrise. He had a long drive to Los Angeles and meant to get an early start. Depending on traffic around the Bay Area, the drive would be eight to ten hours from Virgin River. He locked up his RV, which was his home. It sat on the property at Jack’s bar and grill; Jack and Preacher would keep an eye on it for him, not that Mike expected any kind of trouble. That was one of several reasons he’d chosen to live here—it was quiet. Small, peaceful, beautiful and nothing to disturb one’s peace of mind. Mike had had enough of that in his former life.
Before coming to Virgin River permanently, Mike had made many trips to this Humboldt County mountain town for hunting and fishing, for gathering with an old Marine squad that was still close. His full-time job had been with LAPD, a sergeant in the gangs division. That had all ended when he was shot on the job—he’d taken three bullets and had a lot of hard work getting his body back. He’d needed Preacher’s robust food and Jack’s wife Mel’s assistance with physicaltherapy on his shoulder. After six months, Mike was as close to completely recovered as he’d get.
Since moving to Virgin River he’d been home only once to visit his parents, siblings and their families. He planned to take a week—one day driving each way and five days with that crowd of laughing, dancing Mexicans. Knowing the traditions of his family, it would be a nonstop celebration. His mother and sisters would cook from morning to night, his brothers would stock the refrigerator with cerveza, family friends and cop buddies from the department would drop by the house. It would be a good time—a great homecoming after his long recovery.
He was three hours into his drive when his cell phone rang. The noise startled him. There was no cell phone reception in Virgin River so the last thing he expected was a phone call.
“Hello?” he answered.
“I need a favor,” Jack said without preamble. His voice sounded gravelly, as though he was barely awake. He must not have remembered Mike was heading south.
Mike looked at the dash clock. It wasn’t yet 7:00 a.m. He laughed. “Well, sure, but I’m nearly in Santa Rosa, so it might be inconvenient to run over to Garberville and get you ice for the bar, but hey—”
“Mike, it’s Brie,” Jack said. Brie was Jack’s youngest sister, his pet, his favorite. And she was really special to Mike. “She’s in the hospital.”
Mike actually swerved on the highway. “Hold on,” he said. “Stay there.” He pulled off the road onto a safe-looking shoulder. Then he took a deep breath. “Go ahead,” he said.
“She was assaulted sometime last night,” Jack said. “Beaten. Raped.”
“No!” Mike said. “What?”
Jack didn’t repeat himself. “My father just called a little while ago. Mel and I are packing—we’ll get on the road as soon as we can. Listen, I need someone who knows law enforcement, criminology, to walk me through