Return to Falcon Ridge

by Rita Herron

HE SHOOK HER, and she twisted frantically to escape him. “No!”

  “Elsie!”

  She jerked away and fought, kicking and screaming, but he pinned her arms above her head. She closed her eyes, trying to block out his presence. She knew what he would do to her now. Fighting would only make his punishment harsher. She had to lie perfectly still, shut him out….

  “Elsie, wake up, it’s me, Deke.” He cupped both her hands into one of his, then stroked a finger down her cheek. “Honey, wake up, it’s me, Deke. You’re safe now.”

  The husky voice, the whispered word of affection, battled its way through her senses, and she opened her eyes, heaving for air. Deke’s chiseled face stared at her, his eyes dark and angry, but his gruff voice rumbled out allaying her nerves.

  “You’re safe now, Elsie. I’m here, just me. I’ve got you.”

  Not bothering to think, she threw herself into his arms, savoring the rise and fall of his chest as he held her. He rocked her back and forth for several minutes, murmuring reassuring nonsensical words as he pressed her face into his strong shoulder and stroked her back. She buried herself in his massive hold, allowing him to ease the tension from her body. The scent of his masculinity slid over her senses. Deke was fierce, hard and tough, the most masculine man she’d ever met, yet he was so gentle that tears filled her eyes.

  “Elsie, tell me about your nightmares,” he whispered in a husky voice.

  She shook her head, but he kissed her softly on the forehead. Then he pressed a kiss to her cheek, and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb.

  “Please talk to me, Elsie. I promise I’ll understand.”

  “He was after me,” she said in a low voice.

  “Who? Your father or Mr. Hodges?”

  “Hodges.”

  “What was he going to do?”

  “Punish me.”

  He swallowed, the coarse skin of his beard stubble brushing her skin. “For what?”

  “Because I tried to protect the younger girls.

  “So he took his rage out on you?”

  She nodded against him, then angled her face sideways to hide the shame. He lowered himself down beside her on the bed, and cradled her in his arms, spooning her with his warmth as he rubbed her cold arms with his hands. She felt the hard planes of his chest against her back, felt the heat of his sex as it stirred into her hip, and for a moment, fear tightened her belly.

  “Relax, and go back to sleep,” he said in a gruff voice. “I promise not to hurt you, Elsie.”

  Fresh tears welled in her eyes. No, she didn’t think he would physically. But what if she fell for him? What if she…actually cared for him? Would he walk away one day as everyone else in her life had, and leave her alone?

  She couldn’t bear to put her heart on the line and have it broken.

  Still, she inhaled his scent, sank into his embrace, for the first time in her life, accepting solace from a man. Just for tonight, she’d let him hold her. But tomorrow, when dawn brightened the gray sky and the night shadows drifted into daytime horrors that she could manage on her own, she’d stand alone again.

  The way she’d always done. The way she always would.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Deke rose before dawn, his efforts at rest a failure. How could he sleep with Elsie lying next to him, her butt cradled against his thighs, the soft feminine scent of her wafting toward him with each breath she took?

  Summoning every ounce of strength he possessed, he dragged himself away from the temptation to wake her and fulfill the fantasies he’d entertained during the long night.

  A fresh layer of snow had fallen, creating crystal patterns on the window, and ice-laden tree branches scraped the glass. The rumble of the ancient furnace barely cut into the chill. He built a fire in the room to keep Elsie warm, and left her sleeping.

  After spending a night next to her, holding her in his arms, his sex throbbed, the continual erection he’d felt all night aching relentlessly. He had to go for a run in the woods. Clear his head. Regain control.

  Give Elsie time to rest, to realize that they’d spent the night together, had shared a bed, and he had kept his promise. He wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want.

  He strode downstairs, yanked on a denim shirt and his bomber jacket, then stepped onto the porch, scanning the area to make sure it was safe before he fled into the forest to check on the falcons.

  The morning air and scents of wildlife invigorated Deke, although images of Elsie filled his head, too. He searched a five-mile perimeter, looking for injured birds or other animals that needed help, but thankfully found nothing. On his way back, he paused to study the sounds—trees crunching beneath his boots, the swirl of the kestrel’s wingspan as it soared above him, the chatter of squirrels and chipmunks scouring for food. As he neared the edge of the forest near Wildcat Manor, he spotted a pickup truck in the drive, and he headed toward it, wondering who had ventured out this early and why they had come to the orphanage.

  Fear knotting his stomach, he crossed his arms and squared his shoulders as a salt-and-pepper-haired, barrel-chested man wearing jeans and a flannel shirt slid from the seat.

  “Morning. I’m Jeb Waddell. The lady that lives here asked me to come out and do some repairs.”

  “Deke Falcon.” He extended his hand in offering and the man shook it.

  “Don’t really know why she’s bothering with this old house. I heard it’s haunted.”

  Deke frowned. “She has her reasons.”

  Jeb removed his cap and scratched at his near-bald head. “I told her I’d do what I could, but if I hear anything funny like ghosts and stuff, I’m out of here.”

  Deke chuckled. So the burly man was afraid of ghosts.

  “Where should I start?”

  “Why don’t you clean up the grounds outside first. After breakfast Elsie can tell you what she wants you to do next.”

  Jeb nodded, circled to the back of his truck and removed a wheelbarrow. He pushed it to the side of the house, then pulled on work gloves and began hacking at some of the weeds.

  Deke went inside and brewed a pot of coffee, then logged on to his computer to see what else he could dig up on the town. A few minutes later, Elsie emerged, dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting blue sweater. His body instantly reacted, but he tamped down his desire when he saw the wary look on her face.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Elsie said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “Why?” he asked in a low voice. “Because of the nightmare or because you let me hold you?”

  She averted her eyes, a blush staining her cheeks. “Both.”

  He went to her, then stroked her hand gently. “I’m not sorry you let me hold you, Elsie. It felt good. Right.”

  Her gaze shot to his. “Deke—”

  “Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips to ward off her argument. “The guy you hired is outside pulling weeds. I want to go to town and talk to Dr. Mires and Burt Thompson this morning.”

  She nodded. “I was going to do that myself.”

  “We’ll go together.”

  “Deke—”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me. It’s too dangerous.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but a shout erupted from the back. He rushed to the French doors and saw Jeb running toward the house. Deke threw open the door. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…I went around to the garden area, thought I’d clean it up first.”

  “And?” Deke pressed.

  “Some animals were sniffing and digging around, so I leaned over to see what they were doing.” He gulped, eyes wide, sweat pouring down his face. “There’s a…a body buried back there.”

  Elsie gasped in horror, her legs folding beneath her. Deke grabbed her for support.

  “I’ll go check it out, Elsie.”

  Elsie had to go, too. Had to see who the body belonged to.

  What if it was her baby? No, her little girl was buried in the woods beneath that oak tree by the pond. Miss
Hattie Mae had shown her the grave so she could visit and have closure.

  She inhaled sharply. “I’ll go with you.”

  Deke gave her an odd look, then hurried out the back door following the older man. Her nightmare from the evening before rose to haunt her. It had been so vivid. The weeds choked the life from the garden, the stench of death and decay—it was just as she remembered as a kid when she’d hidden in the thicket.

  “It’s back here,” Jeb said. “I like gardening, so I was checking out this one to see how much work I’d have to do to revive it.”

  Deke stopped at a small clearing, then Jeb pointed to the right where a bobcat clawed at the ground. At the sound of their approach, the animal lifted its head, growled, then looked up at Elsie and Deke with teeth bared. A small bone protruded from its mouth, and Elsie’s stomach clenched.

  Deke gestured for her to wait, while he inched closer, speaking softly, his voice tranquil, hypnotic. She held her breath, praying the bobcat didn’t attack him, while Jeb backed away.

  Deke grew very calm, then stooped to the bobcat’s eye level and continued talking, but Elsie couldn’t discern the words. The animal paused from his digging, and seemed entranced by Deke’s voice. It was almost as if Deke shared a secret language with the wild creature. Finally, he moved close enough to stroke the animal’s head, slowly, gently, just as he’d touched her. In seconds, he’d formed a connection with the animal that went beyond reason. That part of him that exuded raw masculinity mirrored the animal’s. But their inner souls must be connected, similar.

  Time stood still for a brief second, then finally the bobcat turned and trotted off.

  “Lord, almighty,” Jeb muttered “I ain’t never seen anything like that, mister.”

  Deke shrugged, then approached the grave with a solemn expression. Elsie wanted to look, to make certain they hadn’t uncovered her baby’s grave, but fear held her in its clutches.

  “It’s human, isn’t it?” Jeb asked.

  “Yes,” Deke said in a strained voice. “It looks like the body belonged to a little girl.”

  “A girl?” Elsie asked in a shaky voice.

  Deke nodded. “Looks like she was about eleven years old. She’s been here for a long time.”

  Elsie’s throat closed. Thank God it wasn’t her baby. But if it was a child’s body, then it was probably one of the girls who’d lived at the orphanage. Hodges had threatened the girls that if they tried to leave, he’d punish them severely. Over the years, a few girls had disappeared, but he and Hattie Mae claimed that they had found homes for them. She’d girls lucky.

  But what if he had killed them instead? Would they find more bodies buried if they searched for them?

  Chapter Eleven

  Deke didn’t trust the sheriff but he had to call him. A half hour later, he appeared with his deputy, along with a crime scene unit from the county and the local medical examiner, Jim Franks. They studied the grave, removed the body of the young girl, then the sheriff questioned Jeb while the CSI team examined the area for evidence. Elsie had retreated inside to read more of the journal, the tension between her and the sheriff palpable.

  Sheriff Bush paced around the gravesite, his brows furrowed. “It looks like she’s been here around ten or eleven years.”

  “Can you tell the cause of death?” Deke asked.

  “I won’t know until I examine the bones.”

  Deke folded his arms across his chest and studied the medical examiner. “You’ve lived in Wildcat for years. Did you ever get called to the orphanage?”

  Franks’s face twitched, as if the question made him uneasy, then shook his head. “I only make calls when someone dies.”

  “You didn’t know about this girl?”

  Frank’s face flamed red with anger. “Of course not.”

  Deke narrowed his eyes. “Did you perform an autopsy on Hodges?”

  The sheriff and Franks exchanged an uncomfortable look. “Didn’t see any reason to,” Franks said. “Fire killed him.”

  Deke frowned. If they had suspected that Elsie or someone else had started the fire, they would have performed an autopsy for evidence. Odd.

  “What about the infants who were born here?” Deke asked.

  Franks stood, using his palms to smooth down his dress pants. “For a stranger in town, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”

  “I’m a friend of Elsie Timmons’s,” he said, wanting them to know he was watching her back. “I have reason to believe Hodges abused the girls here. Since this girl is dead, I’m wondering if he killed her. And if he did, he might have hurt others.”

  “We never got any reports of violence out here,” Bush said.

  Deke hissed. How blind could they have been? “How about problems in childbirth? Did you ever lose any of the infants or any of the girls during delivery?”

  Elsie reappeared at the edge of the woods, her heart pounding while she waited on the medical examiner’s reply.

  Would he tell them about her baby? Had he come out to the manor the night her child was born? Had they performed an autopsy?

  She didn’t think so. They’d certainly never mentioned it. And she had been too young and traumatized to ask the right questions. They had informed her that , then whisked it away in the night to bury it. She hadn’t even gotten to see her little girl or hold her and tell her goodbye.

  “No,” Franks said. “Doc Mires took good care of the girls. I don’t recall any problems with any deliveries or any of the teenagers.” He glanced down at the skeletal remains of the young girl, then back up at Deke. “Mires and Thompson arranged for nice families to raise the babies. It worked out well for the unwed mothers and the parents who couldn’t have children.”

  Elsie swallowed back the bitter, painful memories.

  Deke placed a steadying hand to her back as she approached. “Elsie?”

  She couldn’t look him in the eye. If she’d only known the extent of Hodges’s abuse, she would have run away and told on him. But her silence had cost girls their lives.

  “Mr. Hodges did abuse the girls,” she said as she faced the sheriff. “I didn’t think he killed anyone, but he used to punish us with violence and deprivation. Sometimes he locked us in the dark closet, sometimes he took us to the basement and…beat us. And then…” Her voice broke.

  “Then what, Miss Timmons?” the sheriff asked in a hard tone.

  “He molested a few of the girls, got them pregnant, then forced them to give up their babies.” She inhaled, trying to calm her roaring heart.

  “If that’s true, why didn’t you report it? Tell someone?” Sheriff Bush asked.

  Elsie’s spine stiffened at his tone. He didn’t believe her. “Because we were too afraid. I…was too afraid. If we ever talked or tried to escape, he made us suffer.”

  Bush scowled. “It’s hard to believe someone didn’t report it.”

  “Maybe they tried to, and no one listened,” Deke said. “From what I’ve heard and seen in this town, the people turned a blind eye to the kids in need.”

  “I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” Bush said.

  “And I don’t like the way this town has tried to cover up things,” Deke barked. “For God’s sake, you were the sheriff and you let this travesty go on.”

  Elsie cleared her throat. “I…there are more bodies.”

  The sheriff pivoted abruptly, the medical examiner cocked his head in question, and Deke closed the distance to her. “What? Did you find another one, Elsie?”

  “No.” Her voice wavered. “While you were out here, I went inside and read more of Hattie Mae’s journal. In it, she mentioned two more girls’ deaths. Hodges hid their bodies behind the walls in the basement.”

  DR. MIRES SKIMMED his old files, memorizing as many of the dates and names as he could. He had to shred the material. That Falcon man and Elsie Timmons were bound to show up at his office sooner or later, and he wanted to be able to honestly tell them that his files had been destroyed. They need not know t
hat he had just done so himself.

  Granted most of the adoptions were technically legal, and many infants had been placed in loving homes with the unwed mothers’ consent, but there were a couple of questionable cases….

  If word got out that he had covered up for Hodges’s indiscretions, his reputation would be ruined.

  He skimmed another file, then ran it through the shredder. Better that the files disappeared. In fact, he should have done it years ago to avoid a paper trail. He’d promised the parents of the adoptees total anonymity and he owed them. The adopted children didn’t need their lives uprooted, either. He’d seen news stories where children and families were torn apart, and he wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. Some of the people were even his friends, family, the children safe and happy right here in Wildcat.

  No, Elsie Timmons couldn’t destroy their lives. He wouldn’t allow it.

  A knock sounded at the door, and he pushed his wire-rims up his nose, sweat beading on his upper lip. Donna, Thompson’s secretary, stepped inside with a worried look on her face. Beside her stood Eleanor Cross, his sister. Heaven alive, had the two women paired up in panic?

  He heaved a deep breath. “Ladies, what can I do for you today?”

  Donna closed the door, a terrified look in her eyes. “You can assure us that our children are safe. That you’ve kept silent.”

  “I’m shredding the files now,” he said, his nerves zinging. “Soon, any reference to the adoptions will be erased completely.”

  Eleanor suddenly withdrew a small pistol and aimed it at him. His eyes widened. Surely she hadn’t gone mad. “Eleanor, now calm down, honey. I told you I’m taking care of it.”

  “What if they make you tell them?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, although he instantly regretted his comment when she released the safety on the gun.

  “I know you’ve had attacks of conscience over the years,” Donna said with a frown. “That you regretted getting involved with Hodges.”

  “I did regret some things,” he admitted. “I never wanted the girls to be harmed. And when I found out that he was hurting them…” He dropped his head forward, the memory of the day he’d caught Hodges seared into his brain. “I tried to stop him. God knows I tried.”