Free Preview of See Her Fall

Readers call “See Her Fall,” the latest heart-pounding novel in the Thomas Shepherd thriller series, a ferocious page-turner and a must-read. Today, I’m bringing you the first two chapters of this red hot new release.

See Her Fall

Copyright 2025 Dan Padavona

Chapter One

Thomas Shepherd guided his silver Ford F-150 along Wolf Lake as the April dusk settled over the still water. In four days he would marry Chelsey Byrd. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He glanced at his left shoulder. Even though almost three years had passed since the gang shooting in Los Angeles, a phantom ache pulsed beneath the scar in his back. He turned the wheel and directed his truck down the lake road. The bullet had barely missed his spine. Fate had given him a second chance at life, and now he was days from marrying the only woman he’d ever loved.

He glanced at his left shoulder. Even though almost three years had passed since the gang shooting in Los Angeles, a phantom ache pulsed beneath the scar in his back. He turned the wheel and directed his truck down the lake road. The bullet had barely missed his spine. Fate had given him a second chance at life, and now he was days from marrying the only woman he’d ever loved.

He eased his truck into the driveway beside the A-frame home he shared with Chelsey. Deputy Veronica Aguilar’s cruiser sat beside the house with the engine running, headlights cutting through the lengthening shadows. Thomas’s stomach tightened.

Aguilar never visited him at home on his day off. This wasn’t some friendly drop-in. He knew better.

Stepping out of the pickup, Thomas closed the driver’s door with a little too much care. He didn’t like loud noises. Some said it was because of his Asperger’s. He thought it was just how he’d always been: orderly and observant.

When Aguilar noticed him, she opened the door and drew herself up.

“Thomas,” she said.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a social call,” he replied.

Chelsey’s green Honda Civic was missing from the driveway. She must still be out working a private investigation case with Raven Hopkins, or picking up dinner from that new café by the water.

Thomas felt the breeze off the lake behind him. Four more days until he made Chelsey his wife. There were so many details to go over. What if the wedding, which would take place in the backyard, didn’t go as planned?

He controlled his breathing, the way his psychiatrist, Dr. Mandal, had taught him. Inhale for four beats, hold, exhale. Some nights, that trick was the only thing that kept him from unraveling. Right now, standing in his driveway with Deputy Aguilar looking ten shades of anxious, Thomas worried. His lead deputy was five feet tall and stocky as a bulldog, yet tonight she looked almost fragile.

“There’s a car abandoned above Lucifer Falls,” Aguilar said. “The driver’s wallet and phone are inside and the keys are in the ignition.”

April wind rushed past, stirring up the budding trees. If he listened long enough, he’d hear Wolf Lake speak. Or at least that’s what the villagers said. A hush of pine needles, a moan through the waterfall gullies, voices carried over the swirl of water.

“I know you’re on vacation,” she said. “If you want me and Lambert to handle this investigation—”

“No. You were right to come here.” He couldn’t help himself. Responsibility wasn’t a coat he could shrug off. “I’ll follow you.”

He brushed past her and climbed into his F-150. The seat gave a squeak, and he settled in. Aguilar pulled out first, her taillights like eyes in the gloom. As they drove up the ridge, the dusk gave way to a deeper black, and clouds devoured the stars. Occasional streetlights threw jagged cones of gold across the asphalt, as if warding the leftover ghosts from winter.

He passed the knotted pine cabin that Darren Holt called home. Raven Hopkins lived with the forest ranger. No light glowed through the windows. Thomas suspected Darren and Raven were at Wolf Lake Consulting with Chelsey, working late on a case. They’d been pulling double duty, taking on private investigations from around the region.

You’re not present for Chelsey.

The thought nagged at him, louder than the truck’s engine.

She needs you to choose linens and decide on a playlist, not search for a lost woman near a waterfall.

But here he was, chasing the next crisis like it was a stray dog that might bite someone if it ran loose. He couldn’t walk away. Even on his days off, the uniform called to him.

He spotted the state park sign.

WOLF LAKE STATE PARK—LUCIFER FALLS.

Black silhouettes of tall pines crowded in, branches like twisted fingers grasping for the road. Up ahead, Aguilar slowed and turned onto a narrow dirt route that descended to the waterfall’s overlook. Thomas eased his pickup behind her, feeling the tires slip on the soft shoulder. He killed the engine. The wind soughed through the gorge. A chill scuttled up his spine.

He stepped out of the truck and joined Aguilar. Over her shoulder, the impenetrable black of the gorge yawned wide.

Thomas directed his flashlight beam over the abandoned vehicle, a white Hyundai Elantra streaked with mud and paint chipped where it had hugged the guardrail. It looked pitiful in the glow of his flashlight, a forlorn machine left to the creeping tendrils of twilight. The left rear tire leaned precariously close to the crumble of the shoulder above Lucifer Falls. Dead leaves, remnants of the previous autumn, collected near the wheel wells. A half-cracked rear window beckoned him closer.

“A camper flagged the Elantra to the Park Service,” Aguilar said. “He said it’s been here at least a day, maybe longer. Keys are hanging from the ignition, but nobody attempted to steal the vehicle.”

Peering into the backseat through the partially open window, Thomas spotted a worn leather purse, a water bottle, and what looked like a spiral notebook on the floor. “Any word on the owner?”

Aguilar consulted the notes on her phone. “Her name’s Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Armitage, from Kane Grove. Got that from the plates. The doors are locked, but with that rear window partway down, it won’t be an issue to get inside.”

“Anyone talk to her family yet?”

“Not yet. I came straight to you. Figured you should decide what to do.”

“All right, we’ll do this by the book. Call Lambert and LeVar. I want them going door to door in Kane Grove to see if anyone talked to Liz Armitage over the last twenty-four hours. Let’s get a tow out here and process the scene. In the meantime, we might have a lost hiker on our hands.”

Thomas slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Aguilar did the same. Next, they went to work on the Hyundai’s door with a slim jim, the slender metal tool sliding between window and frame like a scalpel, probing and pressing until the lock gave way.

Once the door was open, Thomas reached in for the phone. No passcode, no fingerprint lock. Just an open door to the missing owner’s life. He handed the phone to Aguilar.

“You’d think, if she went for a hike, she’d take her phone with her. Especially in these woods.” Aguilar toggled through the device’s contacts. “It’s weird. She didn’t even lock it.”

Recommended Reading: The Thomas Shepherd series

After taking a photograph, Thomas withdrew the keys and lifted the leather wallet from the center console. A New York State driver’s license with a photo stared back. Elizabeth Armitage, brown hair swept into a loose ponytail, eyes halfway between hazel and green, wore a dimpled smile that appeared shy. Mid-thirties, according to the birth date. She looked like someone who might collect pressed flowers in a scrapbook or spend weekends wandering through flea markets.

He handed Aguilar the license. “Why leave the wallet and phone in plain sight?” he asked. “Especially with the keys in the ignition. It’s a wonder no one stole the Elantra.”

Aguilar navigated the phone. “No calls in or out today. Battery is at 43 percent. Here. I found an emergency contact. It’s labeled ‘James, Husband.’” She tapped to dial, but after several rings, no one picked up. “Voicemail,” she said, then left a brief message.

There were a handful of credit cards, but the wallet seemed bulkier than it should have. Right now, locating the missing woman took priority. Dropping the wallet and phone into an evidence bag, he moved to the overlook’s railing and looked down. Even in the dark, the drop made him dizzy.

Thomas contacted the department before turning back to Aguilar. “Dispatch is sending Lambert and LeVar to Elizabeth’s house.”

Aguilar stared at the gorge’s edge as if it were a portal to another world. “If she survived the fall, she’s in a world of hurt.”

The evidence made Thomas uneasy. Every few years, someone fell into the gorge and landed in the rocky stream, which fed into Wolf Lake. He took a step toward the gorge overlook, the scuffing of his boots loud in the forest’s hush. “We’ll do a quick pass around the trailhead,” he said. A pang of dread tightened in his chest. “Look, I don’t want to assume she wrote a suicide note. It sure seems like it, but I need to be sure. I want to find her before it gets cold. The forecast says it’s supposed to hit 40 degrees overnight. If we misinterpreted the meaning, she might be lost in the forest.”

If she’s still alive, he thought.

With Aguilar behind him, Thomas descended the trail. Ever since childhood, people had labeled him quiet, but in truth he was listening. He’d always been that way.

Details popped out like flashbulbs: a fresh imprint of sneaker treads, the faint tang of algae from the runoff at the gorge, a plastic grocery bag snagged in a branch.

“Check it out,” Aguilar said, pointing to a game trail branching off the main footpath. The darkness seemed to congeal there, where the forest was too thick for the fading evening light.

Thomas paused, letting his flashlight drift across the ground. “Would she have gone this way without a phone?”

The path looked even less traveled than the standard gorge route, overgrown and choked with last year’s leaves.

Before Aguilar could respond, the two-way radio crackled on Thomas’s hip. He pressed the button. “Thomas.”

Deputy Tristam Lambert’s voice came through. “Thomas, I got a hold of Elizabeth’s husband’s at work. James Armitage says he hasn’t spoken to Elizabeth in three days. She accused him of having an affair and stormed out. A neighbor confirmed they’d had it out in the front yard. A real public spat.”

“So the husband is working late?”

“Seems that way. But we got permission for a welfare check. LeVar’s grabbing the house key from under a flowerpot. James says it’s fine if we look around.”

“All right. Do the welfare check. Wear gloves and be careful about what you touch.”

“Wilco,” Lambert said, and the line went silent.

As Thomas examined the dark trail ahead, his mind clicked through possibilities the way a camera shutter snapped pictures. Cheating spouse. Motivated husband. A public spat in the front yard, the heat of humiliation and rage causing Elizabeth to leave James. It was a scenario he’d seen play out too many times.

He kept his flashlight trained on the ground, scanning for fresh footprints that might guide them to Elizabeth’s whereabouts. But the earth told no tales tonight. Another windy sigh rustled the evergreens.

“After a marital dispute,” she said, as if picking up on his thoughts, “things can escalate. Fast.”

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility. If he was cheating and she confronted him, maybe he had a reason to make her disappear.”

Murder. The word refused to leave his thoughts, chilly as the damp on the bark. Even the peepers in the creek bed below Lucifer Falls had quieted.

“We have enough witnesses who saw them arguing,” Thomas said. “But why leave the Elantra in clear view?”

Aguilar stooped to pick up a broken twig. She turned it over in her gloved hand, then let it drop. “Maybe he thought it would look like she ran away or fell. The husband could argue he had nothing to do with her disappearance.”

They stepped around another curve in the trail and reached a narrow, rocky ledge over the gorge. The roar of white water crashed through the creek and droplets wet his cheeks. The waterfall churned in a frothing sheet of foam that glowed in the flashlight beams. It was almost nine o’clock. True night had swallowed the park.

Her shoulders tense as she gazed into the yawning chasm, Aguilar stood beside him. “Nobody could survive that fall.”

A plunge down this gorge would be fatal. Jagged rocks at the base gleamed with dark, glassy slickness. Even if someone survived the impact, they’d be sucked beneath the current by the swirling rapids.

The creek snaked away beyond the waterfall. After a violent drop, the water fed into calmer pools, then vanished around a bend. In the distance, the forest enveloped the creek, like a parched throat gulping water. The hiss of the rapids made Thomas dizzy.

“Too many drownings here,” he said. “People lose their footing and fall in. Or they think they can wade across. The current is too strong.”

He let the flashlight return to the cliff edge. Loose stones crumbled under his boots, tumbling into the darkness. A second or two later, there was the faintest slap of water as they hit the white-capped rapids.

“No sign that anyone fell. No clothing snagged on branches and rocks.”

The darkness made it impossible to see if anyone was lying along the banks. Any vantage point they found up top wouldn’t do the job. The rapid strobe of water crossing over stones turned the blackness into a shifting kaleidoscope of shadows and froth.

If Elizabeth Armitage had fallen off the lookout, they were facing a recovery, not a rescue. But there was no proof she had gone into the falls.

Thomas suppressed a spike of dread, wondering if, come morning, he would need to call in the state dive teams to comb the riverbed downstream.

“We’d be better off bringing in a search team at first light, maybe a boat if the water’s passable,” she said.

“I can’t wait that long.”

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