Return To Falcon Ridge. Rita Herron

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СКАЧАТЬ encounter with Deke Falcon, she checked the door locks, pausing in the hall as she noticed the padlock to the basement. The acrid smell…

      She would not go down there. Not now. Maybe never.

      The memories were too painful, the images too real, the anguish and shame too raw.

      Her secrets had to remain hidden.

      Shaking off her paranoia, she climbed the steps, grateful for the flickering light of the lantern as she studied the print carpet, the shadows from the corners, the long hallway that led to the dormlike rooms the girls had occupied.

      The room where Hattie Mae and her husband slept had been on the main floor, off-limits.

      The dorm wings had separated the girls by ages. She had slept in the east wing while the kids under ten had slept in the west. She didn’t think Hodges had ever ventured into the younger girls’ rooms, but couldn’t be sure.

      Uncertain if she could sleep, she stopped at the private bedroom on the second floor. It had been reserved for the caretaker, who had seen after the girls and made certain they were tucked in at night, their doors locked securely. Elsie stepped inside, the scent of lavender and old lace greeting her. A hand-crocheted blanket covered the iron bed with cross-stitched pillow cases in blue and white. The dust that had been so evident in the house seemed minimal in here, the room clean and tidy. A white rocking chair sat beneath the window, and a full-length mirror occupied the opposite corner, complementing the antiques.

      Outside, sleet slashed the roof. She built a small fire to ward off the chill, then looked out the window. Thick woods surrounded the place, trees bending and swaying with the force of the wind. The Smoky Mountains rose toward the sky like a fortress that offered a hiding place from the rest of the town.

      The way Hodges had wanted it.

      Back then, it had frightened her to be so far away from everyone else. Now, she sought comfort in the solitude. Keeping herself at a distance from others had saved her life in the past.

      A shadow moved outside, and she tensed, studying the darkness. Was someone out in the woods watching her, or had it only been her imagination? The roar of an animal rent the air. What if the werecats were real?

      No, she did not believe in the supernatural. The monsters she saw were human.

      A noise inside startled her. Birds flapping in the attic? Or maybe raccoons or another trapped animal?

      Seconds later, the sound of a baby crying trilled through the hollow walls. Elsie covered her ears. The sound would never cease. She heard it every night as she tried to fall asleep.

      She’d run from this place to escape it, but she had never been able to. And she never would.

      Because the baby had been hers. And it was lost forever.

      DEKE STUDIED the orphanage, surprised that Elsie had gone inside and hadn’t returned to her car. Age and weather had grayed the exterior while cobwebs and years of fallen leaves and tree branches overflowed the gutters. Weeds had overtaken the yard, the grass brittle from the winter, the windows dark and coated in layers of dirt and grime. It was as dark as Hades inside.

      He couldn’t imagine Elsie spending the night in the spooky place, but the fact that she had gone inside proved she wasn’t as skittish as he’d first thought. Or maybe she assumed this was one place no one would ever look for her.

      He considered approaching her again, but decided to wait until morning. Let her think she’d escaped him. Let her get some rest. Meanwhile, he’d do a little research on Wildcat Manor.

      Then he’d catch her off guard, early in the morning before she had a chance to leave again.

      Still, he watched the house until after midnight, when it grew quiet and the small light flickered off. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he walked down the graveled drive back to his Range Rover, climbed in and followed the dirt road to the main highway. A battered sign pointed left, guiding him to the small town of Wildcat. He’d heard the South and Smoky Mountains were filled with spooky old legends. Would he find ghost stories in Wildcat?

      Blinking to see through the fog, he circled the square until he found a small ten-room motel called Mountain Man’s Lodge. He grimaced at the dilapidated concrete building. There was probably a cozy bed-and-breakfast the tourists used, but he didn’t need frills, only answers. This truck-stop dive backed up to the woods, which beckoned him to visit for his nightly ritual.

      Inside, an old-timer with gray hair, overalls and a hearing aid lifted his frail hand in a wave. “I’m Homer. You ain’t from around these parts, are you?”

      He shook his head no. “I need a room for tonight.”

      “Just passin’ through?”

      “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

      Homer handed him a key to room nine, then looked him up and down. “You never been to Wildcat before?”

      “No. What can you tell me about the town?”

      The old man huffed. “Don’t many people that come through here ever come back.” A chortle rumbled from his thin chest. “Fact is, some of ’em never leave, either.”

      “You mean they like it so much, they settle?” Deke asked.

      “Not hardly.” Homer gestured out the window to a small white chapel at the foot of the hills. “See that cemetery? That’s where they end up. Damned just like the town.”

      Deke frowned, wondering if the man’s comment had been a warning. Then again, Homer didn’t look dangerous.

      “The devil lives in those woods along with wildcats as big as tigers, some of ’em half-human,” Homer continued. “Call ’em werecats. They feed off animals and humans.”

      Homer must be senile. “Then why are you still here?”

      He pointed out the window toward the hills. “Buried my wife, Bessie, a few years back. Cancer got her. We were together forty-five years. Can’t bear to leave her here alone.”

      Deke frowned. He had no idea love and devotion like that existed anymore. Of course, his parents had weathered their own terrible storm and wound up back together. “I passed a place called Wildcat Manor coming in,” he said, putting his personal thoughts aside. “It used to be an orphanage?”

      The man’s thin skin stretched over his bony jaws as he frowned. “Yep, but they closed it down ten years ago. Bunch of troublemakers lived there, didn’t associate with the townsfolk. Strange things went on in that manor. Stories about young girl runaways. The old man was crazy.”

      “What happened to him?”

      “Died in the fire that destroyed the basement of the building. The orphanage was disbanded then. Reckon his wife, Hattie Mae, was too scared of the hellions they put with her.” He wheezed a breath. “Rumors said one of the girls set the fire.”

      “What happened to Hattie Mae?”

      “She died a few weeks ago.”

      “Did you know a woman…a girl actually, named Elsie Timmons? Was she one of СКАЧАТЬ