“Welcome to Mountain Vista.” Designer jeans, low heeled boots, casual shirt topped with a suede jacket - the woman heading toward them looked nothing like the high powered San Francisco real estate agents Trent was used to seeing. He could tell from her lack of a Southern accent that she certainly hadn’t grown up around here.
“I’m Marilyn.” She held out a hand. “And you are?”
“I’m Trent Holden and this is my fiancée Callie LeBeau.”
Callie’s eyes widened at this, but she felt a nudge from Trent and smiled brightly at the woman.
“What brings you to the mountains?”
Trent could tell she was sizing them up. Potential commission or time wasters?
“We’re getting married in the fall. A small ceremony – close friends and family. We were thinking about having a wedding here in the Smokey Mountains. Renting cabins for everyone to stay in, reception outdoors somewhere surrounded by fall colors. Callie has her heart set on spending our honeymoon in a cozy log cabin with a stone fireplace, don’t you, Babe?” he tossed in.
He heard her gasp. Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Trent went on. “I’d like to find a cabin that’s for sale. Maybe some place we could rent out most of the year and come back here for vacations – and of course, for our anniversary. Do you handle rentals as well as sales?”
“Yes, we do.” The woman’s face brightened at the mention of buying. Rental fees, sales commission – he could almost see her adding the numbers in her head, determining how much energy to devote to them.
“Come on back to my office and tell me more about the type of place you’re looking for. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“I’d love a cup. Callie, you’d prefer tea, wouldn’t you, honey?” He turned back to the saleswoman with a disarming smile. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Marilyn disappeared into a back room and Trent led Callie to the display of properties pinned to a corkboard along the wall. “See anything that looks familiar?” he whispered.
Callie glared at him. “Fiancee? Honeymoon cabin?”
Trent grinned. “Sorry. The fiancée thing makes us sound trustworthy. The cabin - I couldn’t resist teasing you a little. Now, take a look at the board.”
“No, these are all too new. I visualized an older place, more of a farmhouse than a cabin.”
Marilyn returned carrying a tray with three cups sporting bear cub handles. Trent took one and chatted on, improvising as he spoke.
“My uncle Dan talked so much about this area after he came here last year, we just had to see it for ourselves, didn’t we, sweetheart? He’s retired - rented a house for a couple of months. Of course, he loves hiking, so he got a place bordering the Forest Service where he could walk right out the back door and spend a whole day in the woods. I never asked him what company he worked with – maybe you met him?”
“We do a lot of rental business here. It’s possible.”
“Dan was more concerned with the location than the looks of the place. From what he told me about it, the house he rented wasn’t anything we’d be interested in. More like a farmhouse than the cute little cabin we’re looking for.”
Trent went on. “Maybe you could pick out a few places for us to drive by to give us an idea of what we can get for about $300,000. We’ve just gotten into town and we’d like to spend the day looking around, getting a feel for the area. Are you available tomorrow? I know Callie’s going to want to get inside as soon as she sees a place she likes.”
Marilyn began tapping at her computer, shooting questions as she typed. Trent responded with specific wants and needs for the fictitious honeymoon cabin. As he described the place, Callie was shocked, even though she heard him admit he’d been having visions too. The place he was describing was identical to the one she found herself in during those all-to-real erotic episodes she’d been experiencing ever since they first met.
Trent took the handful of property flyers Marilyn printed out and began heading for the door. He turned back, as if just coming up with a thought.
“By the way, I’d love to play a joke on Uncle Dan – find his rental, snap a picture of it and tell him it’s the place we’re buying. Do you have anything in your inventory like that? An older farmhouse backing up to Forest Service?”
Marilyn shook her head. “Doesn’t ring any bells. There are dozens of real estate companies in the area. Could have been any one of them.” She backtracked, realizing the risk of sending a hot prospect to her competition. “Of course, some of them will list anything.”
She added her pitch. “Our firm is very careful choosing the properties we represent – we only carry the highest quality listings, whether they’re sales or rentals. I’m sure for an event as important as your wedding, you’ll want to work with a company that guarantees everything will be perfect for you and your guests.”
They headed down the street, splitting up to cover more ground. The second place Callie visited was a dusty little office, manned by a bored old-timer. He stayed seated at his battered metal desk while Callie told her story, complete with the mythical relative. She smiled patiently as he rambled on in response.
“Don’t recollect meetin’ your uncle,” he drawled, “but I rented a place like that last month to another single feller. Miz Ethel died at the ripe old age of ninety-seven couple of years ago. Raised nine kids in that old farmhouse. Outlived most of ‘em…and the ones that are left are still arguin’ about how much they can get for the place. Meantime, they ‘spect me to rent it out for ‘em. ‘Course, they won’t spend a dime to fix it up any, so the longer they go, the less they’re gonna git.”
“I could rent it easy to a single mother on HUD with four or five kids, but they won’t hear of it. No young’uns, no pets. You ask me, they’re lucky to get anybody to rent it – sits empty most ‘a the time. It’s not the kind of place them Floridiots want and it’s too pricey for the locals. Your kin sounds like the guy that’s in there now – quiet, minds his own bidness, don’t have no patience with community associations or nosy neighbors. Says he likes to be outdoors mostly, din’t want nuthin’ fancy.”
“Yes, that’s just like Uncle Dan,” she nodded. “Kind of a loner. Never married, roams in the woods for hours. He hated working in the city, always vowed he’d move back to the kind of place where he grew up. But his old homestead was torn down years ago. It’s a fancy gated subdivision now. He’s been searching for years for somewhere that feels right. Maybe you could give us directions to the place you’re talking about. Uncle Dan may be interested in buying it if you can get the heirs to agree on a price. I promise we won’t disturb the tenant,” she went on hastily. “I’d just like to drive by, have a look at the area so I can tell my uncle all about it.”
She left with directions that included turning off the side road after they left town “at the corner where the Matheson’s barn burnt down a few years back. Y’uns can’t miss it – part of the old foundation is still sittin’ there in the hayfield.”
Callie caught up with Trent and shared her news. She was ready to head for the motorcycle, but he stopped her. “Let’s grab something to eat while we’re here. We could be riding around for hours and once we get out in the country, there probably won’t be any place available.”
He led the way to a coffee shop down the street. The cafe was doing a brisk lunchtime business, mostly locals by the looks of it. They grabbed two seats at the counter and ordered. Bubba burger, fully loaded, for Trent and grilled cheese for Callie.
“You’re pretty busy for midweek,” Trent remarked when their waitress returned.
“Everyone’s been stopping in to hear the latest news about that little girl that’s gone missing,” she responded. “Sheriff came by about two hours ago, asking for volunteers to help search the woods behind her house. Lots of the old timers that come in here have hunted around there – they know the lay of the land.”
“We just got into town today,” Trent replied. “Haven’t h
eard anything about it. How long has she been missing?”
“According to the sheriff, she wandered away a little after 8 am when momma walked to the bus stop with her two older brothers to see them off to school. One minute she was playing in the back yard, the next she was gone. Momma is frantic – says she doesn’t usually let Bethany outside first thing in the morning, but it’s been so warm this spring. I’m sure they’ll find her soon.”
The woman seemed to be reassuring herself more than her customers as she continued. “The little Taylor boy went missing over in Canton last Thanksgiving, spent a whole night in the woods dressed only in his pajamas before they found him. People combed the woods around his house for hours. They spotted him at daybreak, curled up with his new puppy, both of them sound asleep against a fallen tree. The boy said the dog ran off and he was chasing it – lost his way.”
Callie was listening intently. She pushed away her sandwich, untouched, and turned to Trent. “We need to get on the road.”
One look at her face told him all he needed to know. He grabbed one last bite of his burger and interrupted the waitress. “Sorry, hon. I think hearing about a missing child has punched all my wife’s ‘mom’ buttons. We’ve been on the road for a few days and she’s anxious to get home to the kids. Could you wrap this up to go and add a couple of bottles of water from that cooler to our bill?”
“Sure, no problem.” She reached under the counter for a styrofoam box, then turned to Callie. “I know just how you feel,” she said. “You hear about something like this, you just want to go home and hug your own kids a little tighter. How many do you have?”
Callie responded immediately.
“David is six and little Kaya will be three next month.”
This time it was Trent’s turn to stifle a gasp. He gave Callie a look she couldn’t interpret, tossed some bills on the counter and headed for the door.
Chapter 8
Callie hurried after him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he answered curtly.
“I don’t have to have psychic powers to know that’s a load of crap,” she replied. “What in the world just happened?”
“I don’t like someone poking around in my head, peeking at my thoughts like some kind of telepathic voyeur.”
“I wasn’t… I didn’t… ” she stammered.
“Then where did you get those names?” he demanded.
She stared at him blankly. “Names?”
“David – okay, that’s pretty common. Could be a coincidence. But Kaya?”
“The waitress asked me a question. An image flashed into my mind of two children, a dark haired boy and a little blonde toddler. I saw them. I knew their names. It’s the kind of thing that happens to me all the time. Usually I find out I’m picking up thoughts from the person I’m talking to but these two children appeared out of nowhere.”
Trent met her eyes and whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him. “Okay. No big deal. Sorry if I overreacted. Let’s get going.”
Callie hopped on behind him and they cruised southwest out of town. She wasn’t satisfied with his response, but delving deeper into that discussion would have to wait. Finding little Bethany was all that mattered right now. Callie felt closer to her, knowing the child’s name. She sent her thoughts on ahead, reaching out to the frightened child. “We’re coming for you, Bethany. Stay strong. We’re coming to take you home to mommy.”
Although she’d experienced visions all her life, after Granmere died Callie had no one who understood, who could assure her that the incidents she saw were genuine. Back in the bayou, watching a scene play out on the evening news just as it had played out in her head was no more real than watching any other TV show. It was only over the last few months, as she was finally able to track down the people she saw, save them from the harm that haunted them in her dreams, that Callie began to look upon her clairvoyant skills less as the curse of a flawed mind and more as a powerful talent.
She didn’t understand why the universe had seen fit to grant her with this ability, but she accepted it, and the responsibility that went along with it. Now, if she could just ask the universe to allow her to use it once again to rescue that helpless child!
Quaint downtown shops disappeared as they sped down the road, replaced by familiar fast food outlets and the small town version of strip malls. Callie spotted a sign for the Waynesville post office on her right. She grabbed Trent’s shoulder and pointed, knowing that between the helmet and the road noise, he’d never hear her. He nodded and kept going. But when she spied the Baptist church a few miles down the road, Callie started yelling.
“That’s it. That’s the one! Turn right.”
Trent slowed and Callie leaned into the turn the way he taught her. Though riding a motorcycle was a new experience for her, Trent had been a good teacher, making sure she knew the basics within the first hour. He even cautioned her to be careful of the hot tailpipe getting on and off. Apparently a severe ankle burn was one of the most common injuries among new riders who didn’t wear heavy boots.
They headed up the two-lane road. A narrow ribbon of flat land was bordered by heavily wooded hillsides on both sides. Here and there a paved driveway led off to nowhere, curving up into the hills. Occasionally they glimpsed multi-story chalets perched high above on the mountainsides overlooking the valley.
As they came around a bend in the road, Callie spotted what looked like the remains of a fieldstone foundation in a pasture on the right. A small creek wound its way through the open land, disappearing into the forest. Trent slowed and turned onto the dirt two-track that bisected the meadow and led on into the woods.
Once they were surrounded by trees on both sides, he pulled off the road and stopped the bike.
“It’s too quiet out here. Anyone could hear us coming from a mile away. We need to leave the bike here in the woods and hike up the road, see if we’re in the right place.”
Callie immediately began heading through the trees. Trent pulled her back sharply.
“Let me go first.”
“Trent, I think it’s nice that you want to be all macho, but didn’t you tell me you’ve been a city boy all your life? I grew up playing in the woods. And my playground wasn’t filled with bunnies and squirrels. It was bordered by swamplands alive with gators and water moccasins. I know how to take care of myself out in the wild. And I know how to move silently,” she added, as he took a step back, crunching through a pile of leaves and dead branches.
Callie led the way along the edge of the woods for about half a mile. Not a soul was in sight. The dirt road ended abruptly in front of a muddy yard bordered by the gnarled remnants of a small orchard. Half a dozen weed-choked peach trees were in full bloom, thriving despite years of neglect. An old farmhouse with a ramshackle front porch and rusted tin roof sat in the center of the clearing. At first glance it appeared abandoned, but there were fresh tire tracks leading around to the back and a thin wisp of smoke trailed from the stone chimney.
Callie shivered. She could feel evil emanating from the structure. She turned back, motioning for Trent to be quiet. Leading them deeper into the woods, she stopped in a small sun-dappled clearing far enough away that they couldn’t be seen or heard from the house.
“This is it, right? We need to call the cops.” Trent reached for his cellphone, but Callie stopped him.
“And tell them what? That I have this ‘feeling?’ I ‘just know somehow’ that little Bethany is in there? It’s not that easy, Trent. I’ve been through this before,” she added. “Cops don’t drop everything and come running because someone who claims to be psychic calls to say they’ve had a revelation. We need more – some evidence that there is actually a kidnapped child inside that house.
“It’s better if you wait here. I’m going to work my way around so I can see the back of the house, see if there’s any leverage we can use to get the police to drive all the way out here.”
Trent started to protest.
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“I can move faster alone and there’s less chance of being spotted. Besides, we both know if only one of us is going to go, I’m the logical choice. I’m at home in the woods. You’re not.”
Although it went counter to every male bone in his body, Trent knew that she was right. “Don’t take any chances. And come straight back – don’t try to do anything all by yourself.”
Callie’s tone was grim. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen what this guy is capable of. I’m not going to get near him.”
She began heading back the way they had come, then stopped to flash him a warm smile.
“Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone care what happens to me.”
With that, Callie vanished into the thick underbrush at the edge of the clearing.
Chapter 9
Though it was still early in the spring, there was plenty of cover in the woods. Thickets of mountain laurel held glossy green leaves year round. At the edge of the woods, a mass of wild blackberry bushes flourished in the sunlight, buds already forming among the soft green leaves. Callie crouched behind the bushes, taking care not to become entangled in the vicious thorny branches, some as thick around as a man’s thumb.
A nondescript Ford Explorer was parked near the back door. That’s the car he would choose, Callie thought. Four-wheel drive to take him safely down back roads, dull brown to blend more easily into the scenery. No flashy red car for him, one that might be remembered by a potential witness.
The back door was shut tight. Curtains were drawn at every window. Callie moved closer, hoping to catch a glimpse inside the car.
A bright flash caught her eye – sunlight reflecting off something on the ground near the Forest Service sign at the edge of the woods. She checked the house again. Still no movement anywhere. Before fear or common sense had a chance to kick in, Callie darted into the back yard and snatched the object.
Callie's Gift Page 5