Chapter One
Twenty years later
She felt cold, clammy, maybe a little weird and definitely disoriented. But not so out of it so as to not realize she was totally naked.
She couldn’t exactly remember removing the knit off-the-shoulder top, ripped straight-leg jeans and flats she’d been wearing.
Yet here she was, and in the park, way past midnight but well before dawn—running almost blindly through the tall, thick trees.
And she wasn’t alone.
Someone was chasing her. Someone she knew all too well. And another person, not so much.
They wanted to kill her. To silence her forever.
She wanted to live. But could she realistically outrun them? When they were as determined to catch up to her as she was to evade them with every fiber inside her?
She sucked in a deep, ragged breath—her breathing more and more laborious. Her heart was racing, too, as if wanting to burst through her chest.
What was wrong with her?
What had they to done to her?
She bit back the pain from the blisters on the bottom of her feet from the pounding they took while running across hard dirt and rocks, but she didn’t dare slow down.
If only she could get through the trail and find a place to hide from them. Till someone could help her.
Or was it already too late for that, her fate sealed?
As dizziness and queasiness seemed to hit her all at once like a ton of bricks, her thin legs started to give out.
The last thing she remembered before the lights went out for good was that she had gone about things the wrong way. Underestimating her adversary in the process.
And she would never have the chance to rethink her bad choices.
* * *
THE FOUNDER’S DAY CELEbrATION, on a Sunday in late June, was in full swing with a colorful parade featuring floats, riders, marching bands, walkers and cheering onlookers as it moved slowly down Hepmore Avenue toward Reston Hills Park, where there were carnival rides—including a Ferris wheel, jumbo slide and a carousel for kids—inflatables, arts and crafts, face painting, entertainers, and business and food vendors eager to market their goods and outdo one another.
Stefanie Nguyen was excited to attend her first Founder’s Day event since moving to Reston Hills, Idaho, four months ago from San Antonio, Texas.
A Vietnamese American widow at thirty-four, after losing her firefighter husband, Edward Nguyen, two years earlier in the line of duty, Stefanie had made the painful decision to sell their Spanish Colonial home for a fresh start.
She was sure Edward would have applauded her decision, not wanting her to dwell on the tragic ending of their marriage and get on with her life as best as possible.
To that end, she’d reluctantly removed the wedding ring from her finger, knowing it was time to let go of the past and have a clean slate as a single woman.
Stefanie believed her late parents, John and Brenda Linh, would also have approved of a fresh start for her, having always instilled in her a sense of looking forward rather than backward in terms of making choices that put her needs first and foremost. She’d chosen Reston Hills for its small-town hospitality and traditional values, much like the place where she grew up in Limestone County, Texas.
Though her late husband’s life insurance, investments and personal savings had provided her the financial means to live anywhere comfortably, Stefanie preferred to work at least part-time, as she had previously.
Putting to good use her master’s degree in Exercise Physiology from the University of Texas at Austin’s Department of Kinesiology and Health Education, she taught yoga three times a week and tai chi twice a week in her new setting, and liked to jog and swim as part of her personal fitness routine.
At the moment, she was enjoying the Founder’s Day festivities at the park—which, beyond that, for her, often included hiking on nature trails near and along the banks of the Beeks River.
Running a hand through long and straight black hair that fell across her shoulders, Stefanie’s small brown eyes regarded the local musicians on the main stage.
They were performing everything from country to easy listening to blues to jazz music—much to the delight of those who had gathered around, judging by the foot stomping and hips swaying left and right joyously.
Though she was beginning to feel right at home and had made a few friends since moving there, Stefanie still found herself lonely at times.
There had been no one romantically in her life since Edward, save for a date or two that went nowhere.
She longed for a day when that might change but wouldn’t rush it.
When the time was right, she was sure someone suitable would come along.
“Hey, you,” Stefanie heard a soft voice say over her shoulder.
She moved her slip-on white sneakers around and looked into the bold green eyes of Bella Reston, whose great-grandfather Arthur Reston was the namesake of the town.
Bella, the Founder’s Day committee chair, who also ran a private foundation for charitable causes, was the same age as Stefanie, just as slender and about an inch taller.
A divorcée—or happily single, as Bella liked to put it—she was gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination, with golden blond hair in a blunt mid-length cut.
The two had hit it off after Bella took one of her yoga classes a couple of months ago and later talked her into volunteering to help promote the event and recruit other volunteers to do whatever was necessary to make it a big success.
Stefanie, who was wearing a multicolored split-neck sleeveless blouse and beige twill pants, put a smile on her face. “Hey.”
Bella had on a green halter midi dress, which flattered her figure, and wedge sandals. She smiled back and, gazing at the stage, asked, “So, are they any good?”
“They’re terrific,” Stefanie had to say truthfully. “Definitely keeping everyone engaged.”
“Glad to hear it.” Bella lifted her dimpled chin. “Let’s just hope I can do the same.”
Stefanie knew that as the chairperson—with the appropriate genealogy—Bella would be taking the stage momentarily to sing the praises of Reston Hills and its journey to becoming a thriving town in Idaho. “You’ll have them eating out of your hands.”
Bella laughed. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it’s very sweet of you to say anyway.”
Stefanie touched Bella’s arm and said, “Hey, it’s in your blood. And it’s not like you haven’t been down this road before.” As she understood it, Bella had chaired the committee for the past three years and, given that she’d continued to hold the position, was obviously good at what she did.
“True.” Bella took a breath and slipped an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, wish me luck anyhow.”
“Good luck,” Stefanie told her and laughed. “Not that you’ll need it.”
“Thanks.” She flashed her white teeth. “Hope not.”
As Bella made her way to the stage, Stefanie checked her cell phone for messages. There were no new ones. Just as she was slipping the phone back into her pocket, a slender twentysomething African American woman with a blond Afro-puff hairstyle approached her and said in an affable tone, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Stefanie returned.
“My name’s Jasmine,” she said, gazing at her with big brown eyes. “I was wondering if you’ve heard about the Braison Family?”
Stefanie cocked a thin brow. “Actually, I haven’t.”
“They’re a great group of people who love each other, love freedom, love nature and a whole lot more.”
“Hmm… Sounds interesting,” Stefanie said, for lack of a better response.
“It really is,” Jasmine gushed. She pulled out a flyer from her shoulder tote. “You should check it out yourself. We have get-togethers regularly. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Stefanie took the flyer out of courtesy but didn’t imagine it was something she would pursue. Even if she had no problem with camaraderie among like-minded individuals, per se. She had enough on her plate for the time being. “Maybe I will give it a try,” she told her nonetheless.
“Cool.” Jasmine gave her a toothy smile. “What’s your name?”
“Stefanie.”
“Well, Stefanie, hope to see you there.” She walked away, only to approach someone else with the same obviously rehearsed but convincing lines.
Stefanie watched briefly in amusement as she stuck the flyer in the pocket of her pants, not wanting to litter. She would dispose of it later.
Turning her attention to the stage, Stefanie regarded Bella, who was in the process of charming her audience in a cool-headed, relatable way by masterfully bridging the past to the present on Founder’s Day.
“My great-grandfather Arthur Reston had a vision when he founded the town that bears his name, Reston Hills, more than a century ago,” Bella was saying.
“He wanted this to be a place where hardworking, family-loving, God-fearing Americans could make a good life for themselves—make that great—symbolizing the spirit of community that we’ve all come to love and cherish.
My grandfather Malcolm Reston dutifully followed in his mighty footsteps, in promoting the town and its core values.
My late father, Stuart Reston, stepped into their shoes with the same dedication.
And now it’s my turn to make them all proud—and you, too.
Let’s make sure that the rich tradition we all embody in Reston Hills shall live on as we celebrate another marvelous Founder’s Day—”
Stefanie grinned at a job well done by her friend as Bella received applause before leaving the stage and circulating among the townsfolk dutifully while the musicians returned.