Return To Falcon Ridge. Rita Herron

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СКАЧАТЬ doorknob, the scent of pine and cinnamon apples enveloping him as he strode toward the desk.

      “Deke Falcon, Miss Bodine.” He tipped his head in greeting. “I’m here to see Elsie Timmons.”

      The owner peered at him over wire-rimmed glasses. “Don’t have anyone by that name.”

      Damn. What name had she used here? “Can you try Elsie Thyme?” She’d used that one in school. “I’m a friend of her mother’s,” he said, when she continued to scrutinize him. “She sent me for Elsie.”

      “Oh, dear, Elsie didn’t mention her folks.”

      He nodded, not surprised, then noted her name tag said Beverly, so decided to sway her with a lie. “Beverly, Elsie’s mother’s not well right now. I…thought she should know.”

      “Oh, of course. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

      Just heartsick from missing her child. “She should recover, but she’s asking for her. You understand.”

      Beverly clucked her tongue in compassion, then visibly relaxed. “I sure do, honey. Elsie’s in room five, upstairs.”

      Deke nodded, then climbed the steps, and knocked. Finally a woman opened the door.

      For a moment, the breath was trapped in his lungs as he stared at her. While Elsie had been cute as a child, with eyes so big they had dominated her face, now she was a stunning woman. Her long dark hair lay in curls around a heart-shaped face, falling down her back, the natural highlights complemented by her gold sweater and her flowing skirt. Her skin glowed as if it had been kissed by the sun, and her lips were a natural rosy color that drew his eyes to her mouth. Such a sensuous mouth. Her lips would be soft. Supple. Tender.

      She tensed as if he had offended her with his look, her long dark lashes fluttering. “Excuse me, who are you?”

      He cleared his throat. Fear darkened the brown depths of her huge eyes, but shades of gold and oranges like the burnished copper of the sunset after a hot day mingled with the brown.

      “I’m Deke Falcon, a private investigator,” he said in a gruff voice. “You’re Elsie Timmons, right?”

      Her eyes widened even farther. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong room. My name is Elsie Thyme.”

      He stared at her dead-on, willing her to confess the lie. Instead, she shoved the door closed in his face. He stood for several seconds, then knocked again, but she refused to answer. Damn it, he shouldn’t have told her he was a P.I.

      Frustrated but unwilling to give up, he descended the stairs, grateful Beverly Bodine wasn’t at the desk, then decided to wait outside. A short time later, he was slumped low in the seat of his Range Rover as she rushed outside with a suitcase in her hand.

      She was going to leave town just as he’d anticipated. He would follow her.

      And he’d find out exactly why she was on the run.

      PANIC SEIZED ELSIE as she tore down the drive from Bodine’s. Deke Falcon was a P.I. Who did he work for? And why had he come looking for her?

      Could he possibly know about the fire ten years ago? Or some of the things she’d done after she’d left Wildcat Manor?

      Had her past finally caught up with her?

      Dear God, no. She had done bad things, but she was trying to make amends. She wanted to help others now. Protect the troubled kids just as someone should have protected her.

      The lush mountaintops surrounded her, the small side roads and valleys offering the possibility of a place to hide. She whipped her car onto a country road that led across the mountain, then cast a desperate glance over her shoulder to see if the man had followed her.

      Deke Falcon? What did he want and who was he working for? It had been ten years since she’d set Howard Hodges on fire…since she’d left him to die. Why look for her now?

      Hattie Mae’s death. Maybe the police had discovered something about his murder now that Hattie Mae was gone. But surely Hattie Mae wouldn’t have willed her the manor if she intended to call the police on her.

      Maybe her guilt had gotten to her and she wanted to make her own amends before death.

      The terrifying night she’d escaped with Torrie roared back, the horrid images replacing the majestic mountain view. She and Torrie had run for what had seemed like hours. Then she’d finally found a church and dropped off Torrie, hoping someone would save the girl and give her a better life. She’d been too afraid to stay herself, had figured the police would be on her tail.

      Over the years, she’d wondered what had happened to Torrie. One reason she’d decided to go into social work.

      A truck roared up, zooming close to her rear, and she sped up slightly, although the curve in the road veered deep to the right, and she crossed the center line. An oncoming car blasted its horn and Elsie overcompensated. Her tires screeched, wheels locking. She skidded on the icy pavement and said a silent prayer that her car wouldn’t nosedive over the barrier. The sludgy ice spewed from her tires, the gears grinding. But at the last moment, she regained control and eased it back between the lines.

      Her heart racing, she glanced behind to see if the Falcon man trailed her, but once again didn’t spot him, so she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d lost him.

      Only he didn’t look the type of man to give up. He was hard looking, tough, brusque, angry, a man who lived in the wilderness. His thick dark hair was overly long, and as untamed as a wild animal’s. Dark beard stubble roughened his bronzed skin, and his mouth was set tight, as if it had never seen a smile. And his hands…they were large, dark, callused…weapons he could use to force a woman to do whatever he wanted.

      A shudder coursed up her spine.

      If he hadn’t looked so intimidating, she would have called him handsome, but Elsie had learned long ago that men couldn’t be trusted. They took what they wanted, trampled on you, then sauntered away without a backward glance.

      No, it was best she had run. But where should she go now?

      Hattie Mae’s offer flirted with her subconscious. She’d been looking for a place to open a teen center when she’d come to Tennessee. But Wildcat Manor?

      According to legends, Wildcat, Tennessee, had been dubbed the town of the damned for generations. Elsie had learned the hard way the reason for its name. The stories of ghosts and spirits that haunted the village. Of the wildcats who preyed on innocent girls, and the devil that lived in the woods. Some even gossiped that werecats roamed the area, hunting for prey.

      The memory of the poor kids that she’d left behind rose to haunt her. The paper reported that all the children had survived. The orphanage had been disbanded after the fire, but she’d never been able to find out where the girls had gone.

      If evil lived in the town, the people needed her to help expunge it. Maybe in doing so, she could absolve herself of the guilt that weighed on her conscience for leaving the other girls, for deserting Torrie, for her own sins….

      A plan took shape in her mind. She would refurbish the place and offer hope to the young and troubled.

      If СКАЧАТЬ