by Mia Sheridan
“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you,” he said.
Her gaze followed his to where her hand was on the ground, her pinky finger next to a cluster of white mushrooms. She hadn’t even noticed them in the midst of the scattering of pale, dead leaves and other forest floor debris. She pulled her hand away, looking at him questioningly.
“Toxic,” he said. “I ate the tiniest piece of one once out of curiosity and was sick as a dog for a day and a half.”
Kandace frowned, moving aside. She’d be sure to wash her hands the moment she went inside.
He looked away from her, petting the animal. “Don’t tell, okay?” He nodded down, and with his words, his voice broke slightly, his thickly-lashed eyes imploring her.
Sensitive kid. Too sensitive for a place like this. She suddenly felt scared for him.
“I won’t tell, Dreamboat.”
He smiled a bashful smile before scooping up the injured baby and holding it to his chest. They both stood. “I have to hide this one in the old shed until it’s healed. If it heals.” He touched the splinted leg gently. “Some things can’t be fixed,” he said, his face troubled.
Kandace didn’t ask him what would happen if the helpless thing couldn’t be healed. Truthfully, she didn’t really want to know. “What if they find it?” she asked, nodding to the animal, a shiver of worry making its way down her spine. To her limited knowledge, animals didn’t fare well behind the walls of Lilith House.
“No one ever goes in there except me and the others. It’s just filled with old junk.”
She thought of the three rooms she’d passed in the basement. “The other kids who were born here?”
He nodded. Before they stepped from the cover of the trees, he looked at her. “You should get back. If they catch you . . .”
She waited a moment for him to finish, but he didn’t. “I know, Dreamboat.”
He gave her that shy, surprised smile again and she couldn’t help smiling in return. She liked his reaction to her compliment. He was a cutie, and he didn’t even know it. “I’ll walk with you to the shed and then I’ll head up the back stairs. Can I ask you a question first though? It’s sort of personal.”
The kid paused, nodded. “Your mothers . . . were they students here?”
He shrugged. “I think so.” A cloud moved across his expression. He glanced down at the tiny animal clutched against his chest and then back to her. “They didn’t want us.”
“How . . . why? How do you know that?”
“Our tutor told us. We all came out damaged, just like him”—he ran a finger down the fox’s back before meeting her eyes again—“and so they left us here.”
What in the world? That didn’t sound . . . three girls had given birth at Lilith House and then left their “damaged” babies behind? How exactly did that work? And this boy? He appeared anything but damaged.
She opened her mouth to ask him more, but he pulled at her sleeve. “We have to go. It’s almost time for chapel. They’ll expect you there.”
Shit. She’d forgotten about chapel. Yes, yes, they would expect her there.
She followed him to the edge of the forest and then walked in his wake as he wove from one landmark to another, obviously dodging the windows where someone might look out and spot movement. The sun cast a pale glow across the silver sky, shadows dissipating as dawn turned to day. When they made it to the small shed on the other side of the property, they both took a moment to catch their breath. A bluebird swooped down, causing Kandace to leap back and duck her head. But the thing landed easily on the kid’s shoulder and he tilted his head toward it, nuzzling it with his hair. “Hey, Rocky,” he said. “Go on. I’m busy right now.” He gave his shoulder a small shake and the bird flew away, soaring smoothly into the morning sky.
Kandace took a step forward. “What are you? A bird whisperer too?”
He made a small sound of humor. “He fell out of his nest when he was a baby. I fed him and now, he doesn’t know how to be a wild bird. It happens sometimes. I’m not sure why, but it does.”
“Huh,” Kandace said. This kid was interesting to say the least. She glanced around. The door to the shed faced the trees and was hidden from the view of the house. The kid eased the door open, and she followed him inside. Dusty shafts of pearly light floated from the one window high on the wall, and Kandace looked around at the piles of old tools and paint cans. She looked up, noticing that the ceiling was clean of cobwebs and dust, and the floor was swept of dirt and debris. Upon closer inspection, it appeared as though the kid had cleaned it, and then re-piled the junk to make it look unused.
A secret hospital in the midst of a war-torn land, that treated nature’s children.
The kid ducked behind a pile of rusty junk, bending to set the fox down somewhere safe and hidden, and then straightened, joining her near the door.
When they turned, Kandace let out a startled gasp. A young girl stood there, staring icily at her. Kandace blinked, the fact that the girl had a cleft palate registering. “Hi.”
The girl said nothing, her eyes finally sliding to the boy. “Another one?” she asked, her expression warming.
“Yeah. A fox,” he murmured, his gaze moving nervously between Kandace and the girl.
The girl looked back at Kandace. “Can she be trusted?”
Indignation filled Kandace. Who did this little shit think she was? As quickly as the thought came though, her ire slipped. This girl was the abandoned kid of some teenage runaway. And she didn’t have to wonder what this girl’s “damage” was.
“I think so, Georgia.” the kid muttered.
“I can be trusted,” Kandace asserted, a cloud parting and a ray of sun causing her to squint. “I have to go though. Now.” She pushed past the girl. “Bye, Dr. Dreamboat,” she called. She glanced back once to see that the girl—Georgia, was that what he’d said?—had turned to watch her leave, that same frosty stare stuck firmly to her damaged face. And not for the first time, Kandace wondered how a place that demanded sinlessness could mistreat and discard children . . . in any way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gravel flew as Camden’s truck skidded to a halt. He yanked the keys from the ignition, jumping from the vehicle and jogging toward the door where he’d installed a new lock a few days before.
Raising his fist, he pounded harshly on the door and a second later, Scarlett pulled it open, her eyes wide, skin pallid. “You okay?” He looked off behind her, searching for something specific he might battle that would result in banishing that look of fear from her face.
“Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter. “Thank you for coming.” She closed the door and wrapped her arms around herself, glancing up at the staircase and then back at him. “I feel kind of silly now. And you’re obviously off duty.” Her gaze flickered down his body, noting, he figured, his lack of uniform. “I thought I heard something . . . well, in the . . . in the walls. I . . .” She shook her head as though embarrassed. “I think maybe I spooked myself. It could have been mice. It probably was, right? I mean, it had to be.”
“What do you mean, in the walls?” he demanded, a sinking feeling in his gut. Damn them to hell.
For a moment she appeared torn, but then she pointed at the wall that curved upward with the staircase. “I heard something there, on the other side of that wall. It was almost like something was . . . climbing. The sound disappeared up there”—she pointed at the ceiling over the staircase—“and then I heard, like, a door closing.”
Camden swore under his breath. They’d promised. “Where’s your daughter?”
Scarlett’s brow dipped. “She’s sleeping. I checked on her after I called you. The door to our room is locked.”
“Okay. I’m going to check things out. Why don’t you head back to your room and stay there? I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“You think there’s reason to be concerned.” She said it as a statement, not a question, so he didn’t answer her. Instead he repeated, “
I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“O-okay,” she said, pausing for a moment and pressing her lips together as though she was holding back from saying more. Apparently having decided not to question him further, Scarlett nodded, turning and walking to the stairs. He watched her disappear up the curved staircase and then he turned to begin his search of the rooms and halls he knew well.
An hour later, Scarlett found him, nailing the final board into place. “I told you I’d call you when I was done,” he muttered, dropping his hammer back into the toolbox he’d retrieved from his truck after he’d conducted a search of the house and felt confident no one was hiding in some dark corner.
Scarlett crossed her arms over her chest, squinting at the boards he’d just nailed to the wall. “What’s that about?”
Camden faced her fully. “There are crawl spaces in the walls of the house. They can be accessed by hidden doors in the walls.”
Her eyes grew wide. She stared at the boarded-up spot for a moment, her gaze finally drifting to him. “You think someone was in the crawl space in my house? Who?”
“Kids.” And God, he hoped he wasn’t lying, although he was pretty sure he was. His gut tightened. “Word gets around about things like secret crawl spaces in the local haunted house.” He rubbed at his eye. “I think I found the entry point, a window on the first floor in the back with a broken lock. I boarded it up and checked the rest. They seem sound, although like I told you, you should have all your windows checked by a professional as soon as possible.”
She was still staring at the boards he’d nailed in place, a crease between her eyes. “Why would kids sneak into my house and climb through crawl spaces? That goes a little beyond trying to find a party spot, or a crash pad.”
He shrugged. “Why do kids do anything?” He picked up his toolbox. “Like we talked about before, a dare. For kicks. The thrill of scaring you.”
She blinked at him. “So . . . you’re sure you nailed all the openings shut?”
“Yup.” Camden turned, beginning to make his way downstairs. He heard Scarlett’s footsteps behind him.
“What if you . . . well, what if you locked some kid carrying out a dare in the walls? What if they’re still in there and they can’t get out?”
He turned to face her, a strange thump in his chest at the earnest expression on her face. Dammit she was pretty. It made him feel off balance each time he stared at her for too long, so he looked away. “You hear someone might have broken into your house to terrorize you and you’re concerned for them?”
She raised her gaze as though considering. “Yes. I mean, can you imagine?” She glanced at the wall. “It would be like being buried alive.”
He considered her for a moment. He’d only known her a handful of days, her presence was a damn inconvenience to him to say the least, and yet he found himself intrigued by her, interested in the things that came out of her mouth, the way she viewed the world. And of course, there was the way she made his body feel, both clumsy and electrified just by virtue of the way she looked. He stared at her a moment longer. Yeah, so he was definitely attracted to her.
Didn’t matter. He had one goal in mind, and she wasn’t going to get in the way. But not at the expense of her safety.
She had a little girl, an innocent child.
And she’d known Kandace. He was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around that.
Hey, Dreamboat. He still heard her voice in his head sometimes, that nickname that had both embarrassed him and filled him with pleasure.
Camden turned, heading away again. “Call me if you smell something dead coming from the walls.”
Behind him, Scarlett gasped, rushing to descend the stairs next to him. “You’re not serious.”
They stepped into the foyer together and came to halt, Camden turning toward her, feeling a twinge of humor at the mild outrage on her face. He hadn’t been serious. He’d checked the crawl space—shone his flashlight up and down it on each floor—and knew no one was in it, but he took another moment to enjoy her reaction. He had the feeling that if he told her there was likely some drug-addled teenager locked up in her walls, she’d take a sledgehammer and make it her job to free him or her. Dumb woman. She was going to get herself hurt. She was going to get her child hurt.
Farrow was no place for her.
Lilith House might prove dangerous.
And what will you do about it, Cam? Come up with an excuse to board up every window and crawl space? Sit on her doorstep with a pistol? Wouldn’t it be easier just to let them do what they want, so long as they don’t hurt her?
Yeah, yeah it would.
He’d tried to remind himself of that as he’d walked through her mess of a kitchen to check the window, spotting the drawings of cakes she had hanging up on one empty wall underneath a logo that read Ruby Sugar. The colored sketches were so outrageously beautiful and unique that they had stunned him for a moment. And Camden wasn’t a man generally impressed by spun sugar and frosted flowers.
So she was beautiful and kind and ridiculously talented. So what?
Where exactly do your loyalties lie? Those had been Georgia’s words and they rang in his ears now.
With you, Georgie, he’d answered. Always with you.
“There was no one in the crawl space,” he said. “When you start with the renovations, you might want to have them sealed up permanently though.”
Her eyes ran over his face as though she could see under his skin. It made him nervous. It made him feel like she knew things about him he didn’t want her to know. She doesn’t. How could she? “What was the original purpose of those crawl spaces? Any idea?”
“I don’t know if anyone knows for sure. I’ve heard Hubert Bancroft had them created as hiding spaces for his family should there be an invasion of some sort. It was a lawless time back then. Wealthy people often had hidden spaces in their homes where they might hide people or things worth stealing.”
“Things worth stealing,” she muttered as if mulling over the phrase. Scarlett’s gaze moved away for a moment and she nodded her head. “Not to mention Hubert Bancroft considered himself judge, jury, and executioner in the murder of innocent people. I might be paranoid too if I was a stone-cold devil any fair-minded person would relish seeing dead.”
Like that, he thought, a small chuckle moving up his throat at her phrasing, true though it was. She said things like that and it made him want to protect her, not just from physical harm, but from anything that might distress or scare her, or even make that small frown line appear between her eyes. Because she was perceptive and caring and decency poured off her like a tangible thing.
Christ Almighty.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, opening his mouth to tell her to lock the door behind him. He didn’t want to spend another moment with this woman. It was shaking things up. It was going to ruin everything.
A shrill chirping came from the direction of the kitchen. He turned toward it. “What was that?”
Scarlett sighed. “Our temporary guest.” She turned, heading toward the noise and, unable to resist, Camden followed.
When they arrived at the kitchen, Scarlett went immediately to a Tupperware container sitting on the counter, picking it up and turning toward him. Inside the container, nestled in a kitchen towel was a baby bird.
“He ate a little bit of mashed egg earlier, but he won’t take any water.”
“Good. A nestling can easily drown if you give it water.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Okay. Well, good to know.” She ran a finger over the back of the baby bird. “Sorry, little guy.” She looked at Camden. “How do we hydrate him?”
“He’ll have gotten enough from the food. You can get some baby bird formula at the pet store in town tomorrow.” He pursed his lips. This situation needled at him, felt all-too familiar. “Where’d you find it?”
“By our front door.” She shrugged. “I’m assuming it fell from a nearby nest and an animal dragged him near the hou
se. He’s lucky to be alive.”
“Seems like a suitable name, then. Lucky.”
She smiled. “Lucky. Yes, I agree.” She peered over at the bird. “You have been christened.”
“Once you name something, it’s harder to see them die.”
She appeared to consider that for a moment. “Yes, I can see how that’s true.” She sighed. “It’s too late in any case. Haddie’s already attached.” She paused. “I’d hoped Haddie would be able to care for him, but he’s making that sound every hour and so I suppose I’m on night duty.”
She looked tired. It didn’t diminish her beauty, in fact, if anything it enhanced it, made her look soft. Vulnerable. The way she might look first thing in the morning, after a night of— “They eat frequently,” he said, watching her watch the baby bird. “If he seems reluctant to take food from you, tap on his beak right here. He placed a finger over the spot he meant, careful not to tap now that the small thing had fallen back to sleep, buying her—and him as long as he was here—some temporary quiet.
“Okay. Thanks.” She looked up at him. “You know a lot about wildlife.”
“Some. You can’t grow up in a town surrounded by wilderness without acquiring some knowledge about its inhabitants.”
She smiled. “I appreciate the help. I’m a city girl who never owned a pet. I know very little about animals, wild or otherwise.” She gently placed the container back down in a darkened corner of the counter, turned around, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again to say, “Do you want a nightcap?”
He stared at her, his gaze flicking briefly to the helpless baby contained snugly and safely in a Tupperware container. She’d be up every hour on the hour tonight. She seemed resigned to it. And for what? For some pitiful creature who’d probably die anyway because she didn’t know what she was doing? Go, he told himself. Staying is a bad idea. Very bad. His eyes returned to her pretty face, expression expectant. “Sure,” he sighed. “I’ll have a nightcap.”
