Redemption at Hawk's Landing

by Rita Herron

  He shrugged. “We had a delay with the cabinets, but we’re back on track now. We’ll be cutting it close to the deadline, but we should make it.”

  “Great.” Her heart stuttered as she led Harrison into the house. “We replaced old linoleum with hardwood floors throughout,” she said to give him an idea of just how much the house had changed. “Luckily we found shiplap in the den and dining room so we restored that and rebricked the fireplace.” She paused at the kitchen. “The house was cut into choppy rooms, but we took out walls and reconfigured the space to create an open concept between the kitchen, dining and living areas. A local woodworker custom built a farm table and bench to fit the house.”

  From the kitchen, she showed him a powder room that had been redesigned, then the master bedroom with a vaulted ceiling and a massive bathroom. The tile work in the shower was intricate, the cabinets and counter were reflective of the farmhouse style she’d chosen in the other room.

  Harrison scanned each room, a smile twitching at his face. “The house is stunning,” he said. “You’re obviously good at what you do.”

  Honey’s throat closed. Jared had praised her work and so had a few Realtors and clients, but hearing the admiration in Harrison’s voice touched her deeply.

  The people in Austin didn’t know about her past or her family or the names the kids had called her. She’d left that behind when she’d run from Tumbleweed.

  Although returning to the small town had resurrected those memories. But she wouldn’t be staying there.

  Her life was here.

  And Harrison’s was back in the town near his family. With his mother, the woman who hated her.

  * * *

  HARRISON WAS IMPRESSED with Honey’s work. She changed when she spoke of the house and design.

  But on the way back to Tumbleweed, she lapsed into a tense silence. They stopped at a barbecue restaurant and ate, the tension still thick between them.

  She was probably thinking about Jared, maybe missing him. Counting the days until she would be with him again, back doing the work she loved.

  It was where she belonged.

  Clouds rolled in, darkening the sky as he headed along the interstate. He hoped to hear back from Lucas, but the miles stretched out without a call. By the time they made it to Tumbleweed, Honey was fidgeting, agitated.

  “Why don’t you drop me off at my father’s? I can stay there tonight.”

  Harrison chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s not safe,” he said. “You’re staying at my place.”

  She bit her bottom lip and glanced ahead, and he wondered if she was nervous.

  “Listen, Honey, I promise I’ll leave you alone. I won’t kiss you or push myself on you again.”

  Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but looked down at her hands then ahead again.

  Harrison spotted a bright light ahead. A light coming from lower Tumbleweed. “Good God, Honey.” He accelerated and flipped on his siren. “Call 911.”

  Honey fumbled as she punched the numbers on her cell phone. “It’s my father’s neighborhood,” she cried. “Hurry, Harrison. There’s a fire!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Honey gave the address to the 911 operator. “Please hurry,” she said as Harrison rounded the corner and turned onto her street. Flames shot into the sky, smoke billowing in a thick cloud.

  The back side of her father’s house was engulfed. Flames ate at the dry grass, spreading to the two neighboring houses. The wind picked up, blowing smoke so thick that as Harrison parked and she threw the door open, she could hardly see the driveway.

  Her feet crunched gravel, though, as she dropped to the ground.

  “Stay in the SUV!” Harrison shouted.

  But panic seized Honey and his words sounded as if they’d come from far away. She had to get her mother’s picture.

  Heart hammering, she ran toward the front of the house and darted inside. Heat seared her and smoke clogged her lungs.

  “Honey, stop!” Harrison yelled behind her.

  But Honey plunged on. There wasn’t much inside she wanted to save, but the picture she’d found was the only one she had of her mother. She coughed, feeling her way through the smoke until she found it, then dashed down the hall to her room to retrieve the jewelry box. If she ever had a little girl, she wanted to pass it on.

  Fire snapped and wood crackled and popped as flames engulfed the back walls and room. The flames had inched into her room and were climbing the wall, quickly feeding on the battered wood and rotting boards. The jewelry box was sitting atop her old dresser, which had started to catch fire.

  She grabbed a bathroom towel, then wrapped it around her hand as she reached for the jewelry box.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Harrison yanked her back toward the door.

  “Let me go!” she shouted.

  “The roof is going to give any second!”

  She pushed at his hands. “Let me go. I want my jewelry box.”

  He cursed. “Dammit, Honey, it’s not worth it!”

  “It’s all I’ve got left.” Tears blurred her eyes. She hadn’t realized how important it was that she keep something from her childhood, but now she did.

  She started back into the bedroom, but he caught her arm. “I’ll get it. Stay here!”

  He took the towel, pushed ahead of her and darted through the rising flames. The wall in the back collapsed with a crash, the ceiling raining down flaming boards. Sparks flew and heat seared her.

  A crashing sound echoed through the house, roaring with the noise of wood cracking, and she shouted Harrison’s name.

  If he got hurt, she’d never forgive herself.

  She stepped toward her bedroom, but flames engulfed her old bed. “Harrison!”

  Panic nearly crippled her as she searched the smoky haze for him.

  It seemed like an eternity, but finally he grabbed her hand. “We have to get out of here now!” He tucked the jewelry box under one arm, and the two of them ran through the house. Wood splintered and windows shattered. They dodged fiery debris and jumped over patches of flames eating the rotting floor.

  She coughed and clung to Harrison’s hand as they ducked to avoid a falling board. She shouldn’t have let Harrison risk his life to save her childhood jewelry box. There wasn’t anything valuable inside, no precious gems or antiques or family heirlooms.

  Just cheap beads and bracelets she’d played with as a kid, ones that had belonged to her mother.

  A loud boom sounded and the roof collapsed. Sparks flew and pummeled them as they ran onto the porch, then jumped to the ground and raced to safety.

  * * *

  HARRISON COVERED HONEY’S head to protect her from being hit by flying embers as they dived beneath a live oak. The sound of glass shattering and wood crashing down splintered the air.

  Granger’s house was totally engulfed in flames, the two houses nearest it smoking and burning, as well.

  A siren wailed. Brakes squealed as the fire engine careened into the drive.

  He quickly searched Honey’s face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Thanks for saving my jewelry box.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pushed himself up. He had no idea what was so valuable inside, but it had been important to Honey, so he’d had to retrieve it.

  “Let me talk to the firefighters.” Harrison jogged to the fire engine to meet the rescue workers. A big, burly man named Wes Comber introduced himself as the fire chief.

  “The first house is a goner,” Harrison said to the chief, referring to the Grangers’ home. “I doubt you can save the other two, but we need to contain the fire so it doesn’t spread to the woods.”

  The chief shouted orders to his team and they quickly began to work, unrolling the h
oses and aiming the spray on the ground by the other houses, then the houses themselves to keep the fire contained.

  “What happened?” the chief asked.

  Harrison shrugged. “I don’t know.” He pointed toward Honey. “Miss Granger’s father owned the house that was engulfed when you arrived. We were in Austin today. When we got here, everything was ablaze.”

  “These houses are old,” the chief said. “You think she lit a candle and left it, or used the stove and there was faulty wiring?”

  “I think there’s foul play. Miss Granger’s father was murdered a few days ago, and since she returned to Tumbleweed, she’s been threatened and attacked.”

  Deep frown lines marred the man’s face as he studied the blaze. “I’ll have my men look for point of origin and evidence of arson.”

  “Thanks.” Cold fear seized Harrison. What if the perpetrator had set the fire while Honey was inside?

  She could have been hurt or...worse. Killed.

  The thought of something happening to her made anger churn in his gut. It wouldn’t happen...not on his watch.

  * * *

  HONEY WIPED SWEAT and soot from her forehead as her childhood home crumbled to the ground.

  If there had been any happy memories in that house, they’d died years ago, destroyed by the misery of living with her father and knowing her mother hadn’t loved her enough to stay around.

  The embers burned bright against the brittle grass, orange and yellow glowing in the dark. Thankfully the homes were vacant so no one was inside or hurt.

  The firemen worked diligently to extinguish the blaze over the next two hours. Wildfires could be dangerous and run rampant, destroying miles of woods and homes if left untended in these dry conditions. Just last year fourteen people had died in a wildfire accidentally set by teenagers when their campfire got out of control.

  Harrison coordinated with the firefighters and walked the property edges, searching for the cause of the fire.

  A black sedan rolled up, windows tinted, and Honey hugged her arms around her middle, wondering who it was. Lucas Hawk emerged from the vehicle in a dark suit, his gaze hooded as he scrutinized the scene.

  Harrison strode around the side of the house, his gloved hand wrapped around the handle of a gas can. He met the fire chief and Lucas on the lawn near Lucas’s car.

  “I found this at the edge of the woods. Someone used it to set the blaze,” Harrison said.

  “The point of origin was the laundry room,” the fire chief said. “I found signs of matches and smelled the gas there.”

  “Dammit, I hope he left prints on the can,” Harrison said.

  “Do you know who did this?” the fire chief asked.

  Harrison shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ll catch the son of a bitch. He didn’t hurt anyone this time, but he could have.”

  “You think it was kids or vandals?” Lucas asked. “Or someone who owned one of these houses wanting to collect on insurance.”

  Harrison shifted. “No.” He explained to Lucas about the threats against Honey.

  “I’m sorry someone is trying to scare you off,” Lucas said. “You don’t deserve this.”

  Honey offered a small smile. “I’m just glad no one else was around or hurt.”

  The fire chief tilted his hat. “When things cool, we’ll process the scene.”

  Harrison nodded and thanked him, and she followed him back to Lucas’s sedan. “Did you talk to the Ritters?” Harrison asked.

  Lucas pulled a photo from his car and handed it to Harrison. Honey’s heart melted at the sight of the little red-haired girl with braids.

  “Her name was Trish,” he said. “She was eight years old and infatuated with cats. Parents took her to a town fall festival. There were games and a cakewalk and pony rides. The mom went to get popcorn and drinks while the little girl rode, but the lady manning the ponies said Trish ran off, chasing a kitty. They searched the festival and town, put up fliers, did everything they could think of, but never saw or heard from her again.”

  “She looks so innocent,” Honey said, her emotions on her sleeve.

  “This is beginning to sound like a pattern,” Harrison said. “I can’t believe no one saw it before.”

  “Information sharing and access to information across territories, especially in small towns, wasn’t as easy back then as it is now,” Lucas said.

  Harrison heaved a disgusted breath. “I know. But somehow this creep got away with kidnapping children for nearly two decades and no one saw the pattern.”

  “Maybe because he traveled from one place to another,” Lucas pointed out.

  Honey’s gut tightened. What if Chrissy and/or these other little girls had been kidnapped by someone who’d taken them out of the country?

  She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that they hadn’t fallen prey to one of those soulless child-theft rings.

  Or to a sexual predator or a captor who’d done unspeakable things to them.

  * * *

  HARRISON READ THE fear on Honey’s face and wanted to comfort her. Lucas stepped away to answer the phone.

  “I’m sorry about the house,” he said to Honey.

  “The house doesn’t matter,” Honey said. “Finding out what happened to these little girls and to Chrissy does.”

  How could he ever have wondered if Honey had lied to protect her father? She’d been almost as traumatized as he and his family by what had happened.

  Lucas pocketed his phone as he approached. “Bad news. Dexter has been searching for other cases that might be connected to this one. Campers found a little girl’s body in the mountains. It could be related.”

  Or it could be Chrissy. Harrison felt as if he’d been hit in the belly. “We should go.”

  Lucas nodded. “Get in. I’ll drive.”

  Harrison glanced at Honey. “We can drop you off at my place.”

  Honey shook her head. “No, I’ll go with you. There’s no way I could sleep right now.”

  He climbed in the front seat and Honey in the back, and they settled in for the drive.

  “Did they identify the girl?” he asked Lucas as Lucas veered onto the highway leading toward the mountains.

  “Not yet,” Lucas said, his voice on edge. “They think she’s been there for a while, though.”

  Harrison swallowed bile.

  Lucas’s hands closed around the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as he drove. Farmland gave way to desertlike terrain, the thick boulders and rocks a testament they were getting close.

  Harrison’s mind raced with questions as they crossed the miles. If this body was Chrissy, whoever had taken her had a car...

  “I checked on Williams,” Lucas said. “He was nowhere near Austin or Corpus Christi when the other girls disappeared.”

  Damn, if the cases were connected, Williams wasn’t their guy.

  The sedan bounced over the ridges and rough terrain as Lucas sped toward the flashing lights. He wove around a curve and then they were there.

  Dread clenched Harrison’s stomach as they climbed from the car and met the detective.

  He gestured toward an old mine. “Hikers ducked in to seek shelter and found the body. No ID on her and she’s pretty decomposed. But a pair of pink socks were half-buried in the dirt, still attached to the skeletal feet.”

  Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose as sorrow overcame him.

  Lucas looked pale and leaned against a boulder for a moment, and Harrison felt Honey’s hand go to his back. He breathed in and out deeply to stem the nausea.

  This could be it. The day they’d finally found their sister.

  But if it was her, there wouldn’t be much left.

  Chapter Twenty

  Honey’s stomach rolled as she gl
anced toward the cave.

  Whether the girl was Chrissy or another child, she hadn’t deserved to be left dead—or to die—in a cave alone in the middle of nowhere. In a place where animals roamed freely at night, hunting for food.

  A shiver rippled up her spine, and Honey caught Harrison’s arm. “You don’t have to go inside. Why don’t you let the medical examiner handle it?”

  Harrison stepped away from her. “This is my job, Honey. And that girl may be my sister. You can’t possibly understand what that means.”

  Hurt swamped Honey at his tone, and she dropped her hand.

  His gaze met hers, his pain so intense it pulsed through her own body.

  The detective gestured toward the cave. “Let’s go.”

  Lucas and Harrison followed the man up the incline where they met two other law enforcement officers. They handed Harrison and Lucas flashlights, and the men ducked inside the opening and disappeared into the darkness.

  * * *

  HARRISON STRUGGLED TO mentally remove himself from the possibility that the skeleton they were looking at might be Chrissy.

  He wanted to remember her the way she was, with chubby cheeks, a gap-toothed smile and pigtails. With an infectious laugh and an annoying way of tagging after him and his brothers. With ice cream smeared on her face as she licked her cone.

  The detective introduced them to the medical examiner, a middle-aged man named Dr. Thoreau. “Was there anything about your sister that would help identify her?”

  Harrison and Lucas exchanged questioning looks.

  “Had she broken any bones?” the doctor clarified. “Had any injuries?”

  “She sprained an ankle once jumping from the swing at the playground,” Harrison said. “But I don’t recall her breaking any bones.”

  “Me, neither,” Lucas said.

  “Well, this girl did,” the doctor said. “It looks like her femur was completely shattered.”

  “Did the killer do it?” Harrison asked.

  The ME shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think it happened when she was much younger. Judging from her bones, it looks like it healed but not properly.”