by Rita Herron
Deke’s j. When he did, Deke would be waiting….
TENSION KNOTTED every muscle in Elsie’s body as she waited on Deke’s return. What kind of human would mutilate an animal and leave it on someone’s doorstep?
Some crazy person from the mountains, someone who was homeless and so deranged he’d lost control of his senses?
No, this was personal. The intruder knew her. He had used her name in the warning. And he’d known that she had killed Hodges.
Seconds ticked by, excruciating in intensity as she waited for Deke to reappear. Finally, desperate to know if he was okay, she clutched the gun, preparing to leave the car and go inside. This battle was hers to fight, not Deke’s.
Outside, an animal howled from the mountains, its shrill cry ringing in her ears, and she hesitated, the noises reminding her of the terrified cries of the girls who’d lived inside Wildcat Manor. The years fell away as if she’d lapsed into a time tunnel, taking her back. The images of the younger orphans, the loneliness and fear on their faces. The pregnant teens, scared for themselves, for their unborn babies. Then the newborns…taken away forever. The emptiness in the girls’ eyes afterward.
Did the nightmares still haunt them? Did they still pine for their loved ones? The families they had lost, their innocence….
She reached for the door handle, determined to face those demons. She shouldn’t have let Deke go in alone. She knew how to fight, how to shoot. She could watch his back.
The door clicked just as he emerged from the manor. He blinked, then strode toward her, his expression grim. She slid from the car, the gun in her hand. “Did you find anything?”
He shook his head, the wind tousling the dark strands of his hair across his brow. She had the insane urge to smooth the stray strands back in place. Not that his hair was neat, it was overly long, brushed his collar and looked as if he constantly ran his hands through it. Her gaze latched on to the worried look in his dark eyes. He was the most handsome man she’d ever known, and reminded her of a warrior from another time.
Except he was here, protecting her.
All because an older woman had asked him to.
That one detail told her he had honor.
“Elsie?”
“It’s cold. Let’s go inside,” she whispered before she did something dangerous like kiss him. Except this time it wouldn’t be a brush of lips, but an erotic, hungry kiss, filled with yearning.
“Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?” He gestured toward the porch. “We can go to a hotel.”
Her nerves skittered in a thousand directions. An image of the two of them lying naked in a soft bed, safe, together, the sheets twisted around them, came to her, unbidden, but stirring desires. Their bodies entwined as lovers….
Yet, the shame of her past surfaced. Intruded on the image. The ugliness of her life here at the manor. And suddenly the thought of a man touching her repu
She backed away, casting her eyes away from him, toward the dark skies and tall mountain ridges. Her fingers felt numb, her heart even more empty. “I’m not going to run again. I did that before…. I won’t this time.”
“You mean when you ran away the night of the fire?”
Cold splintered through her. “I don’t want to discuss the fire, Deke. Did you check the attic?”
“No, it was still locked from the outside.”
“I saw a shadow up there while you were inside,” Elsie said. “There may be someone hiding out upstairs.”
His jaw tightened as he gestured toward the house. “Then let’s check it out. If the guy who left that carcass is inside, there has to be another way to get in and out.”
Elsie stepped forward, but he pushed her behind him. “Follow me. And keep that gun ready.”
ELSIE’S UNWILLINGNESS to talk about the fire raised Deke’s suspicions more. How the hell could he get her to trust him? She had been hurt by everyone she’d ever known, including her own family, the very people who should have loved and protected her. And no telling what had happened to her in that orphanage….
He slowly made his way up the steps again, this time his own nerves unsteady because Elsie was behind him. He wanted her safe, far away from this place.
“Do you have a key for the attic?” Deke asked.
Elsie nodded, retrieving her key chain from the pocket of her jeans where she’d stuffed it. She pointed to a small round key and Deke inserted it, then paused to listen. A creaking sound broke the quiet, then silence. He opened the door and entered the dark stairwell. A flapping sound echoed through the hollow spiral staircase, the scent of must and mildew wafting through the air.
The sound rippled through the silence again. An animal. Maybe trapped inside the attic.
Elsie startled and clutched his arm, tension vibrating in her fingers as she gripped him in the darkness.
“It’s a bird,” he said, hoping to calm her. “It probably built a nest here for the winter.”
He scanned the murky interior with the penlight. A tall oval mirror occupied one corner, while an antique dresser, an open hand-painted wooden trunk full of children’s toys and a couple of bags filled the opposite one.
“There’s nobody here,” Elsie whispered. “But I…know, I’m almost certain I saw a shadow a few minutes ago.”
“Maybe a reflection from that mirror off the window,” Deke suggested. He listened again, then inched his way behind the mirror. His jaw tightened when he spotted a redheaded falcon, its wing broken, its head twisted at an odd angle, lying in the corner. It looked weak, as if it had been there several days.
He glanced around the attic and noticed a hole near the window. Had the bird flown inside after it was injured, or had it gotten inside where an intruder harme
He knelt and checked the falcon, talking in a low voice to comfort the wounded animal. Emotions choked his throat at the idea of losing another beloved wild creature.
“Is it going to be all right?” Elsie asked over his shoulder.
“I hope so. I’ll try to nurse her back to health.” Questions lingered in her eyes, ones he’d answer later. “Can you find me a blanket or something to wrap her in?”
Elsie nodded, then rushed over to one of the bags and returned a second later with an old faded bedspread. He gently wrapped the falcon in it, then stroked the crown of its head. “You’re going to be all right. I promise I’ll take care of you.”
“Deke, how do you think the bird was injured?”
He shrugged, not wanting to alarm her more, but doubts already flickered in her expression. “I’m not sure.”
Anxiety tightened her mouth. “Do you think the same person who killed that mountain lion might have harmed her?”
He had to be honest. “It’s possible. I want to check for a secret door up here.”
He stroked the bird one more time, promising to return, then stood and scanned the attic. On the far wall, a small door led to a crawl space. He pried open the door, while Elsie looked over his shoulder. “It looks like another storage area.”
“Stay here,” Deke said. “I’ll see where it leads.”
Elsie’s face paled to a milky white. He hesitated, and gave her hand a squeeze, hating the fear in her eyes.
“Look around some more, see if you find anything that might indicate who’s been here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, and he disappeared through the trapdoor, then followed it to the second floor where it emptied into the closet. Furious he hadn’t noticed it before, he vowed to nail off the escape route tonight so the man couldn’t come and go as he pleased.
Hating to leave Elsie alone long, he raced back up the steps to the attic. Her face had paled even more, and her body trembled. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern if something else had happened to upset her.
In one hand, she clutched a small book to her chest. Curious, he inched toward her. She didn’t seem to notice his approach. Instead she stood bone still, while she traced a finger over the edge of a wooden baby cradle. Tears clun
g to her long dark eyelashes, the sadness in her voice as she hummed a lullaby echoing in the silence….
ELSIE SLOWLY RAN her finger along the cradle, caressing the smooth blond wood, gently pushing it back and forth, a lullaby humming in her head. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.”
Her mother’s soft melodic voice had calmed Elsie at night, even when she’d grown past the age where she should have been listening to lullabies.
Another baby’s cry squealed in her head, this one terrified at being handed to a stranger. The girl w’d birthed him sobbed into her pillow, battling the truth that she couldn’t take care of herself, much less the baby. But her despair was painful to watch.
Jan. She had taught Elsie about shattered innocence. The one that had struck Elsie the hardest because Elsie had never before witnessed childbirth, not until she watched Jan deliver her five-pound son. Elsie hadn’t known the pain of delivery or the agony of watching a baby being torn from its mother’s arms, either.
Yet she had empathized with mother and child. Because she’d only been four when her daddy had taken her from her own mother. At least the baby wouldn’t know…or would it?
Elsie had certainly never forgotten. And she’d known the emptiness of thinking that her mother hadn’t wanted her.
The question had haunted her—one day Jan’s baby would find out she’d given him away. Then he would suffer. And he’d probably hate her.
After that, there had been others. So many others. Some girls had handled delivery and signing away their child with utter acceptance, hoping to escape their shameful, unwed pregnancy and build a life for themselves, glad to be rid of the unwanted baby that would bind them together forever and limit them from reaching their own potential. They had called the child a burden. They were young. They could have another kid when they were ready.
A few were conflicted in other ways. Smart enough to realize the limitations of their age and financial situation yet not as callous. They believed wholeheartedly that they were doing the best thing for the child by placing it in a home with two loving parents. They had shed tears, but their pain had been mingled with hope and prayers and a sacrifice born of love.
Others had crumbled under the shame and emptiness. Had never recovered from the bleakness of knowing that they had given away a child as if it were nothing but a meaningless possession.
For Elsie, it had been different. Her choice had been stripped from her. But the pain had been just as horrific. She’d felt as if someone had literally carved a hole in her flesh with a knife.
“Elsie?” Deke’s quiet, gruff voice broke through her trip down memory lane.
“What’s wrong?” Deke asked quietly.
She swallowed back the anguish she’d lived with for so long, and faced him, tearless, determined to keep her secret buried next to her heart where her baby still lay. “My mother used to sing lullabies to me at night.” She managed a small smile. “I guess that’s silly, but I was so small when I left, that I’d forgotten that until now.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets. “I can understand that. I…when my father was arrested, I was only a kid, too. But he had the deepest voice, and the widest hands, the longest fingers. Those hands were so strong, I used to watch him chop wood and build furniture with them, then he’d use those same hands to soothe the injured birds.” Deke’s voice sounded thick, as if he thought he’d revealed too much. “I wanted to be just like him.”
“You knew he couldn’t have murdered Hailey’s family, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“, you must have been so angry and hurt.”
He gave her a steady look, but emotions flickered in his eyes. Emotions he tried to hide just as she tried to hide hers. “I was. Rex, our oldest brother, he took care of everyone. Mother. Me and Brack.” He chuckled, but bitterness laced the sound.
“The two of us were so little we didn’t understand. For the first month, I thought my dad would walk back home any minute. Then the truth hit me, and I hated everyone around me for not helping him. The people in town ridiculed us, forced us to move away. The kids taunted my brothers and me, calling us a killer’s son.” He hesitated, met her gaze. “But your mother stood beside mine,” Deke said. “Deanna was a true friend, the only one brave enough to stand up for us against the town. For that, my family will forever be grateful.”
The connection between them was filled with tension, unanswered questions, pain, the memory of her mother. God, she wanted to know her again, to see the loving woman Deke talked about, to feel her arms around her.
But there was more. She wanted to comfort Deke now. He had suffered as a child. Had felt deserted. Lost. But he hadn’t folded. And although he was tough, muscular, commanding, he possessed compassion and a tenderness she’d craved all her life.
Elsie started forward, but he held a hand up in warning. “It was a long time ago, Elsie. My family’s back now, I’m trying to let the anger go.”
“Letting the past go, it’s not easy,” Elsie said softly.
“No, but that’s why I want to help you and your mother reunite.”
His gaze locked with hers, and she sensed he was waiting for her to offer more. But the cradle drew her eye again, and she clammed up. She couldn’t talk about the cradle, the baby….
A heartbeat lapsed before he spoke, but his eyes held disappointment that she didn’t trust him. “What’s in your hand?”
She clutched the book to her chest. “Hattie Mae’s diary. I…I thought if I read it, it might help me understand her a little better.” She pointed to the trapdoor. “Did you find out where that crawl space leads?”
“To the closet in one of the dorm rooms. I’ll seal it and that window so no one can use it again.”
He closed the distance between them, and stroked her cheek with his hand. “Elsie, I told you about my father. Now tell me about the fire that night. About you and Torrie.”
“What do you know about Torrie, and that night?”
“Just what the papers said,” he murmured. “That the police called it an accident. That Hattie Mae phoned the fire house, and they rescued all of the girls, except for you and Torrie. What happened to her?”
Elsie rubbed a hand over her eyes, blinking back tears. “I don’t know.”
Deke gripped her arm and forced her to look at him. “Tell me, Elsie. Did Hodges hurt Torrie? Was he abusing her? And you and the other girls?”
“Torrie,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “That night r to the basement. He was going to hurt her. I had to get her away.”
His grip loosened, his fingers tenderly stroking the place where he’d held her. “What was he doing to her?”
“He…it doesn’t matter now. He’s dead and she’s safe.”
“How do you know that?”
“I helped her escape. Then we found a church and the priest took her in.”
“He took you in, as well, then?”
“No.” Terror gripped her. “I ran. I…I wanted to go back and save the other girls. But the police were there, already asking questions.”
“About the fire?”
She nodded. “And they were talking about taking the girls away, moving them, so I thought they’d be better off away from Wildcat Manor.”
Deke’s steady gaze focused on her face. His dark intense look burned her down to her soul, as if he already knew the answers. “What caused the fire, Elsie? Did you set it?”
How could she describe what had happened and not reveal everything?
You know what it’s like to murder.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She ran toward the steps, but he caught her again, imploring her with his dark enigmatic eyes.
“I thought you said you weren’t running anymore.” He cupped her face in his palms. “Then why are you running from me, Elsie? I’m trying to help. Just trust me.”
Chills rippled through Elsie. “Don’t you get it, Deke? I can’t trust anyone.” Tears stung her
eyes as she hurried down the steps.
Like the wild animals who hid behind the shadows of the trees and boulders in the mountains, she was safer in her solitude. There, no one could hurt her. No one could see her sorrow.
Afraid she couldn’t contain her emotions any longer, she moved to lock herself in the bedroom. Maybe she’d read Hattie Mae’s journal. Maybe she’d find answers there, the truth, and then she could find forgiveness.
But she froze in the doorway of the bedroom, a sick feeling overwhelming her. At the foot of the bed lay a baby blanket just like the one she’d slept with as a child. The one she’d left here at Wildcat Manor the day she’d escaped.
The one she’d wanted to wrap her own child in some day.
But she’d lost the baby girl and left her buried here at the manor.
Chapter Nine
Deke had no idea whether he should follow Elsie and make her talk or give her space. He felt raw inside, had shared more about himself than he’d ever revealed to another human, especially a woman.
But she’d turned away anyway.
Knowing she was hiding inside that bedroom with the door locked, he allowed his own anger over the brutal animal slayings to fester. First, he had to attend to the falcon. He pulled on gloves, then carefully cradled the bird into his arms. Her breathing had grown shallow. He stroked the crest of the falcon’s head, speaking in the low voice he used to communicate with the birds of prey. Seconds later, the bird twitched slightly against him, then relaxed, cocking her head as if she understood.
Finally, he went outside to the toolshed, and let her rest beside him while he built a cage. He continued to calm her as he hammered the strips of wood together and attached screen meshing for sides. Satisfied with the product, he placed the blanket and bird inside, then left fresh water, and promised he’d return to check on her progress.
Back at the house, he carried the groceries in and put them away, then placed the dead mountain lion on another old blanket. He cleaned the blood off the porch and door, grabbed a shovel from the toolshed and hiked toward the woods, cradling the mutilated cat as if it was a child. A few feet inside the dense snow-laden branches, he found a dry spot, safeguarded somewhat from the wilder animal life that lived deeper in the woods.
