by Rita Herron
“Yes, a…a biscuit and sausage.
“C right up.”
She dug in her purse and handed him a twenty. With a toothless grin, he dropped the change into her hand, then shoved the food toward her.
She placed the paper bag on the seat beside her, taking a small sip of her coffee as she pulled away from the window. Still shaken, she parked in the corner and tried to calm herself before she headed back to Wildcat Manor.
She’d come too far to turn back now. Her destiny was here, she knew it.
Her breathing rattled in the quiet as she started back up the mountain a few minutes later. Dawn broke the sky, but dark storm clouds obliterated the light. When she pulled up to the manor, her heart clenched. Could she really face her demons?
Yes, she had to or she’d be hiding out the rest of her life. And she didn’t want to hide out. She wanted a life.
She took a deep breath, circled her hand around the mace in her purse, grabbed the food and coffee and climbed out, scanning the woods and property as she neared the porch. The forest seemed ominous, shadows clinging to the thick rows of trees, but she saw no one. Her heart racing, she slowly walked up the steps, listening for sounds that her attacker had returned.
Suddenly a man stepped from the shadows.
Deke Falcon. Tall. Imposing. His dark expression was hooded. But his eyes flared with questions.
He squared those broad shoulders, making him look even more intimidating. So he had followed her to Wildcat. Did he know about her past?
A shudder splintered through her.
Was he the man who’d attacked her?
“ELSIE?”
“What are you doing here?” she said, although her voice came out a mere whisper, fading in the wind.
“I have to talk to you.” He narrowed his eyes, wondering why in the hell she was outside, had been driving, in her pajamas. His gaze fell to her feet, and he grimaced. She had to be freezing. Her toes were red, the sharp sting of cold flushing her face, and she was trembling.
“Were you in my house earlier?”
He shook his head. “No, why do you ask?”
She shrugged, her teeth chattering, the coffee cup in her hand wavering.
“Come inside and get warmed up,” he said in a gruff voice. “I swear, I’m not here to hurt you.”
Her chin jerked up, a wariness there that cut him to the bone. Women had been scared of him before. His family history. His size, his brusque manner, his frown—he knew he looked cold, that women found him imposing. It had never bothered him before.
But Elsie looked like a small kitten, and he felt like an ogre knowing that he’d frightened her. What had happened to make her so distrustful?
“You followed me,” she said in an accusatory voice, making no attempt to go inside or come near him. “I want to know why.“I’ll explain when we get inside.” He removed his faded leather jacket, then lifted it in offering to her. She shook her head, and anger hit him.
“For God’s sake, Elsie, I’m not going to hurt you. I came here to help you.” His mouth clenched when she backed away. But he managed to catch her, then slid the coat around her trembling shoulders. “Come on. I refuse to stand out here and watch you freeze. Your feet are going to be frostbitten.”
Her mouth parted in a small strangled sound, but he ignored it and coaxed her up the steps and inside. The interior was dark, and she set the bag and coffee down, then grabbed a lantern. He took it from her and lit it.
“Is the power off?”
“I’ll have it connected today.”
“I’ll build a fire then.”
She hesitated, but he ignored her as he glanced around to find the den or parlor, whatever they called it in this monstrosity. Old dusty furniture, macabre paintings and cobwebs made the place feel dreary. And a collection of stuffed wildlife including a hawk, a mountain lion and a raccoon occupied the corner near the fireplace. Anger surged through him at the sight. He wondered how she’d stayed here the night before. Or ever.
A stack of wood by a fireplace in the room to the right drew his eyes, and he strode toward it. Within seconds, he’d built a fire. The warmth from the blaze lit the room, knocking off the worst of the bitter chill.
Elsie moved near the heat, keeping a safe distance, but shrugged off his coat. She quickly grabbed a blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around her, still hugging the coffee to her, but curling within it as if the blanket and fire offered her protection.
“Why were you out in your pajamas?” he asked.
“I…someone broke in and attacked me this morning,” she said in a faint whisper. “W-was it you?”
He swallowed hard. He’d never been good with women, but the fact that she thought he might have attacked her made his gut churn. Still, he lowered his voice, containing his emotions. “No, Elsie. I stayed at the inn down the road. Mountain Man’s Lodge. You can call and ask Homer if you want.” He cleared his throat, more alert. “Did he hurt you?”
“No…I’m okay.” She rubbed at her neck and his gaze fell to her pale skin. Bruises marked the edge of her collarbone and neck.
He gritted his jaw. “Did you call the police?”
“No.”
Panic tightened her face, and he frowned. He reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt. “Do you want me to call them?”
She stared down into her coffee. “No…please don’t.”
“Why not?”
She self-consciously tried to hide the bruise with her hand. “I just don’t trust them,” she whispered.
He gave her a clipped nod, although her fear of the police raised his suspicions. Why wouldn’t she report the attack? Was she in trouble with the c
“Would you tell me if you had broken in?” she asked quietly.
“I’m not a liar,” he said in a gruff voice. “And I’m going to search the house to make sure he isn’t still here.”
Her eyes widened when he bent over and retrieved his gun from the strap beneath his jeans. “What is that for?”
“Protection. I don’t intend to meet an intruder unarmed.” Ignoring the fear on her face, he stalked through the rooms, his senses on alert. First the drab kitchen, then the dining area, then the master suite. There was no evidence that Elsie had stayed in the room, making him curious. But the dark furnishings, lack of natural light and old-fashioned furnace reminded him of Falcon Ridge when he was growing up. Now, Rex had renovated the place and updated it, it had a homey feeling, not as daunting as the stone walls that their mother had hated.
Slowly he padded up the stairs, pausing every few steps to listen. He’d half expected Elsie to follow, but she must have decided she was safer in the den away from him, close to the front door so she could run if she needed to. The realization stung, but he ignored it. Why did he care what Elsie Timmons thought of him?
He veered to the left and found a wing composed of two large bedrooms that appeared to be dorm rooms for the orphans. Several small cots lined each pea green wall, the faded gold spreads and dusty furniture a sign that the place had been deserted for some time. The walls were scarred, a threadbare ratty yellow curtain hung askew, and a battered wooden toy box sat in one corner. An image of lonely children locked in the glum rooms brought a flash of sympathy. Had the toy chest ever held toys? Had the children celebrated Christmases and birthdays and gotten presents?
Had Elsie been one of those kids? He had to find out why she had come here….
He found a similar wing to the right, then a smaller private bedroom that actually felt more normal. The furniture was oak, not new, but not weathered like the children’s rooms. He scanned the corners before entering, then realized Elsie had slept in this smaller room. The unmade bed indicated she had left in a hurry.
Had the man attacked her here?
He stepped forward, and examined the rumpled bed-clothes, but saw nothing that might identify her attacker. A suitcase was open in the corner, and a small travel bag sat on the floor in the bathroom, but there was no intru
der. Anxious to get back to her, he noticed a door to an attic, but it was locked on the outside, so the intruder couldn’t have entered through it. He also spotted a similar lock on the basement door on the main floor.
She glanced up at him when he entered, still wary, but at least she had stopped shivering. And she hadn’t run, either.
“I didn’t see anyone. Do you know how he got in?”
A curtain of her long curly hair fell across one cheek. “No.”
“Were the basement and attic doors locked last night?”
She shivered visibly. “Yes. They stay locked.”
He walked back to the fire and started to kneel in front of her, but she drew back her shoulders and he paused, keeping his distance. He had to wiher trust if he was going to convince her to return to Falcon Ridge with him.
“Did you see what the man looked like?” he asked.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and she sipped the coffee. “No, but he had the devil’s eyes,” she said in a low voice.
He frowned. “And you thought it was me?” Anger hardened his voice this time as the memory of his father being falsely accused of murder raced back.
She shrugged. “You are following me. I…still don’t know the reason.”
He heaved a breath. If she believed the tales about the devil living in the woods and thought he’d attacked her, maybe she wasn’t quite stable. How could he take her back to Falcon Ridge like this? Deanna Timmons would be devastated.
“Either tell me or get out,” she said, her voice stronger.
He nodded, considered a lie, but that wouldn’t be fair and would only prolong the process. He needed to know if she wanted to go home to see her mother. Then he could decide what to do.
“Your mother hired me to find you.”
Elsie gasped, a strained silence stretching between them. She’d almost gotten her trembling under control, but the cruelty of his statement triggered another onslaught. Her hand shook so hard she sloshed coffee over her fingers and had to set the cup down. His eyes pierced her. But he said nothing, simply waited.
Pain so raw and deep she felt as if she’d been sliced open tore through her. How many times had she told herself it didn’t matter that her mother had sent her away? That no one wanted her?
Elsie finally found her voice, although she hated the tears that laced it. “You’re lying,” she choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He arched a black eyebrow. “I’m not lying, Elsie. It’s true. She sent me to find you.”
The anger she’d relied on for years resurfaced to give her strength. “My mother is dead,” she snapped. “Now, get out of here.”
Chapter Four
Elsie stood, willing Deke Falcon to leave her in peace. Not to open doors to the past that held pain so intense she’d once thought she’d die from it.
But instead of moving, his black eyes pierced through her as if he could see all the way inside her soul. “Who told you that your mother was dead?” he asked in a low voice.
She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “My father. Now, I asked you to leave, Mr. Falcon.”
“It’s Deke, Elsie.” He tried to reach for her but she backed away. “And your mother is not dead. She’s very much alive and she wants to see you. She still lives in your old house in Tin City.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Now I know you’re lying. My mother sent me away years ago, back when my friend Hailey d
A long tense second followed. “Hailey is alive, too.” His voice dropped a decibel, almost apologetic as if he thought she’d already known. “Everyone thought she was dead, but she came back to Tin City a few months ago.”
“What are you talking about?” Elsie whispered. The memory of the night Hailey had disappeared hung like a dark cloud, still vivid in her mind. In spite of the fact that her mother had warned her to stay away from the Lyles, she had crawled into the attic to visit Hailey earlier that day. But she’d left when Hailey’s daddy had come home. Hailey’s father had been cruel and abusive, and the two girls had both been terrified of him. Elsie had felt guilty that she’d abandoned her friend.
“Hailey and her family were killed that night,” she said. “By the caretaker who lived next door. His name was…” She hesitated, then suddenly the name shot into her head. “Falcon…. Mr. Falcon….”
Harsh lines slashed his jaw as he scowled with anger. “Yes, Randolph Falcon, he was my father.”
Dear God, Deke Falcon’s father was the hatchet killer.
Fear bolted through her. Why had he come to her now?
She took a step backward, but her foot hit the hearth, and she nearly tripped. He grabbed her arms, but she wrenched away. “Please don’t hurt me. Just leave,” she pleaded.
“I told you, I’m not here to hurt you, just like my father didn’t hurt anyone,” he said between clenched teeth. “Your mother sent me to search for you. She wants to see you. The night Hailey’s parents were killed, your father took you away. Your mother has been looking for you ever since.”
Elsie staggered, unable to accept his declaration as true.
“It’s a long story, Elsie, and I’m not leaving here until you hear me out.”
She swallowed hard, trying to remember Deke from childhood. There had been three Falcon boys, all older than her, all mean as snakes. Their father raised falcons, and the school kids claimed the boys were strange, that they communed with wild animals.
Deke removed an envelope from his shirt pocket and pushed it toward her. “Look at these. They’re pictures of Hailey’s wedding. She married my brother, Rex. Your mother attended the ceremony.”
“Now I know you’re fabricating this story. If Hailey returned, she’d never marry the son of her family’s killer.”
Deke closed his eyes as if she had stabbed a knife in his chest. When he opened them again, pain had settled in the dark brown depths. “My father didn’t kill Hailey’s family. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Rex, Brack and I run a P.I. firm. Last year, we reopened my father’s case and when Hailey returned, they discovered that she’d repressed memories of the murder.”
“It turns out that Hailey’s father had a twin brother. He came to help Hailey, her mother and brother escape the abuse, but Hailey’s father showed up and killed the mother and son. Hailey ran into the woods. Everyone thought she had died, but she climbed into a small boat and a trucker found her later. She had lost he memory and wound up in foster care. When Hailey came back to Tin City, her father, who’d been hiding all these years, tried to kill her. My brother saved her.”
Hailey’s sweet face flashed into Elsie’s mind, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, my God. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Elsie. My father was cleared. Hailey and Rex married.” His solemn eyes spoke the truth.
Elsie’s head was spinning. Hailey was alive. Mr. Falcon hadn’t killed Hailey’s father.
If that were true, maybe Deke was telling her the truth about her mother.
“Look at the pictures, Elsie. The proof is there. Hailey and your mother are both alive, and they want very much to see you.”
Elsie stumbled backward and collapsed on the hearth, letting the heat from the fire warm her back as she opened the envelope. Inside, several photos fell into her lap. In the first one, she was small, about four or five years old, with a missing front tooth and a big smile. A memory crashed back, the day her mother had taken the photo. They’d gone shopping and had ice-cream sodas at the soda shop in town. Then her mother had bought her a charm bracelet. What had happened to it?
She jerked her head toward Deke. “Where did you get this?”
“Your mother gave it to me. She kept it all these years.” He hesitated, his voice gruff. “That’s the way she remembers you, Elsie, as the little girl she loved.”
A low sob caught in Elsie’s throat. “I…can’t believe this is happening, that all this time…”
Deke gestured toward the other photos. Two tall muscular men who rese
mbled Deke flanked a gorgeous woman. “That’s Hailey now,” Deke said. “And my brothers, Rex and Brack, on Rex’s wedding day. Hailey planned to remodel her old house into an antique shop, but it burned down. They’re living at Falcon Ridge now, while they build a new house on her old property.”
Elsie’s mind raced to assimilate the information. Her best friend from years ago was really alive. She had survived her awful childhood. And now she looked so happy. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she swiped them away, hating to reveal her emotions in front of Deke Falcon. He seemed so angry.
She thumbed through two more pictures of the wedding, until her gaze fell on a group shot. An older woman with graying hair and the warmest smile Elsie had ever seen stood in the center.
“That’s your mother, Deanna,” Deke said in a gruff voice.
Elsie pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. She’d recognized her immediately. “She’s…so beautiful.” Elsie’s heart stammered. Although she was smiling, the woman’s eyes held an emptiness, as well, as if she had experienced deep sadness in her life. The kind of loss that Elsie had felt in her own heart since her father had taken her away.
Could it possibly be true? Had her mother really wanted her?
Memories bombarded her. Memories she had stored away in the most distant corners of her mind because they had been so painful. She and her mother weaving pot holders out of yarn. The twoaking a cake for her birthday. Her mother singing lullabies to her and tucking her into bed.
Her mother had loved her. Elsie had felt it back then.
A woman like that wouldn’t just turn her back on her child. Her gaze met Deke’s, and she saw the truth in his eyes. But her smile faded as bitter reality surfaced. Her father had lied to her all these years. He’d convinced her that she was responsible for the plague of death on Hailey’s family. That her mother hated her. And later when she’d grown up and had questioned him about her mother, he’d claimed her mother was dead.
