[The McLendon Family 01.0] The Heart of Falcon Ridge

by DL Roan

  Paralyzed with fear, visions of a madman flashed through her mind, but she pushed them away. She had to maintain control. She lifted her head, her eyes burning from tears and sweat. Her hand moved on its own, wiping the sting from her eyes, but her heart stopped when her vision cleared and the paperclip and toothpick came into view, lying together on the porch floor beneath the door.

  Black spots swarmed her vision. The roar in her ears drowned out every other sound and the world turned eerily silent as it swirled around her. Everything moved in slow motion as she slowly crept back down the stairs to her car.

  Her limbs numb, she stumbled over something she couldn’t see. Tunnel vision blocked her attempts to find something to grasp on to. She fell hard against the ground, a sharp pain exploding in her leg and her palms. The pain snapped her from her panic, her vision clearing enough to see her car tire beside her.

  Gasping for her next breath of air, she pushed herself up, her hands grasping for the door handle. Tears blurred her vision again.

  Please! Please open!

  When the latch flipped up but the door didn’t budge, a desperate sob escaped her aching throat. Her hands shook so hard she couldn’t focus on them. She turned and slid down the side of her car into the gravel, sobs wracking her chest. Where were her keys?

  The loud bang of a slamming door caught her attention. She jerked her head up, listening. She held her breath as the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the direction of her back porch. He’s here.

  Her gaze darted around the ground in front of her. She lunged for the clump of keys lying in the grass near the bottom step, skidding across the grass on her knees. She didn’t know where the sudden calm had come from, but she was grateful none the less for the surge of adrenaline that propelled her back to her car.

  Opening the door, she threw herself into the front seat and locked the door behind her. Frantically she searched through her purse and clutched her cellphone. Dialing 9-1-1 while her other trembling hand tried desperately to insert the key into the ignition, she cried when the keys fell from her grasp and landed somewhere near her feet.

  “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

  “Oh God!” She said, her throat so tight she could barely speak. “He’s in my house!” She kicked her legs out, frantically searching the floor with her feet for her keys. Where are they?

  “Ma’am. You said someone was in your house? Are you there now?”

  “Yes!” She folded herself beneath the steering wheel to search the dark floorboard with her hands.

  “What is your name and address, ma’am?” The emergency operator’s calm voice asked.

  “Uh,” Claira had to stop and think. “198 Harvest,” she groaned again as she reached under her seat and felt the cold, sharp edge of one of the keys. She couldn’t reach them without getting out.

  “Are you in the house, ma’am? Can you see the person?”

  “Um, no.” Claira blew out a frantic breath and held in a sob. She needed those keys. She needed to focus. “I’m in the driveway, in my car. Someone is inside! Please, send someone. I can’t reach my keys!”

  “Stay in your car and lock the doors, ma’am. Can you see the person in your home?” The emergency operator prodded.

  Claira sat up and glanced at the house, abandoning her search for her keys. Movement on the right side of the house caught her attention. Her focus sharpened and she recognized the figure walking toward her from the small pathway between her house and the neighbor’s fence.

  “Matt?” Or Mason? In truth, through her tears she couldn’t tell. “Oh, no!” Chills ran down her spine and her hands flew to the door handle, dropping the phone. She had to get him away from there. She pulled on the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. The locks! She ran her fingers over the control panel, pushing all the different buttons.

  Come on! Come on! Open!

  “Matt! Run!” She shoved her shoulder against the door at the same time her fingers found the release and she fell out of the car, catching herself on the armrest.

  “Claira?” Matt called out as he picked up his pace and jogged toward her car. “Darlin’, what’s wrong?”

  Claira grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the street, her thoughts fogged with panic. She had to get him as far away from there as possible.

  “Claira!” Matt said, stopping and pulling her into his arms. “Shh, honey, calm down. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

  “No. You have to run. He won’t stop,” Claira pleaded, writhing in his grasp.

  “Who, darlin’? Who won’t stop?”

  “It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.” Matt sat on the ground, almost in shock himself, and rocked a pleading, sobbing Claira in his arms as he listened to the approaching sirens. A growl rumbled in his chest when he noticed the trickle of blood running down her calf. What the hell was going on? He didn’t have a clue, but he sure as hell planned on finding out.

  “It’s okay, darlin’. The police are here. We’ll be fine. Breathe for me.”

  He tipped her chin and wiped away her tears with his thumb. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly, she was going to pass out if he couldn’t calm her down. Who did this to her?

  When her eyes rolled back in her head and her short, rapid breaths stopped, Matt shook her. “Claira, breathe!” He shook her again. “Claira!” He recognized the officer peeling out of his patrol car at the end of her driveway, gun drawn, and shouted over her limp body. “Call an ambulance, Benton! She’s stopped breathing!”

  “They’re on their way, Matt. What the hell happened?” He dropped to one knee and laid his fingers across her neck, checking for a pulse, his gun held to his side as he glanced at the house.

  “I have no idea.”

  Officer Benton Dryson shouted something else, but he didn’t hear what it was. All of his attention was focused on Claira. She had to breathe!

  Nearing a full-on panic attack himself, he laid Claira flat on her back and propped her head back. He held his ear to her mouth, hoping for even a small sound when she sucked in a shuddering breath, exhaling it out with a broken groan and a cough.

  “That’s it, darlin’. Breathe for me. You can do it.” His hands bracketed her head as he leaned over and looked down into her terror-filled eyes. “Follow me, Claira; in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Matt breathed in deep through his nose and pressed his lips out as he exhaled, coaching her. Her eyes focused on his and each breath she took came a little easier.

  “Sir?” A voice called from somewhere next to him as a hand clamped over his shoulder. He shrugged it off and continued to breathe with Claira. “Sir, you need to move so we can help her.” Matt didn’t move until he heard Benton’s voice calling him.

  “Matt, you need to let them check her out,” Benton said and held out his hand to help him from the grass. Matt raised his head and saw the EMTs crowding in around them. He moved to Claira’s side but didn’t leave her. “I’m right here, darlin’. They’re going to help you, but I’m not leavin’ you alone.”

  Her eyes followed him when he moved to let the paramedics move closer. When they crowded around her, blocking their gazes, Matt stood to his feet and mumbled a curse. Someone was going to pay for this.

  “Matt?” Benton called over to where he stood near his patrol car. He jerked his head up, taking in Benton and the scene around them, wondering when the hell all the other officers and bystanders had shown up. Benton walked to him and stood with his arms crossed. “The house is clear. Want to tell me what the hell happened here?”

  Matt turned to watch as they moved Claira onto a stretcher, clamping his hand against the back of his neck as he shrugged. “Damn if I know, Benton. Mason and I, we called your dad about her water heater and met him here about an hour ago to take a look at it. Claira wasn’t here. Frank and Mason took off to the hardware store to pick up a new one while I stayed here to disconnect the old one. I stepped out back for a minute and heard a car door slam. When I rounded the corner, Claira fe
ll out of her car screaming for me to get away. She was frantic, Benton. What the hell happened?” Matt didn’t think he would ever forget the look of sheer terror in her eyes.

  “She called in a B&E and then dispatch lost her call after she screamed your name into the phone,” Benton explained. “The house is clear, no signs of forced entry. Is it possible she mistook you for an intruder?”

  Matt paused, playing back as much as he could remember. “It’s possible, I guess, but Benton I’ve never seen anyone that scared. And why would she get out of her car and run to me if she thought I was the one who’d broken in?”

  Benton unfolded his arms and placed one fist on his hip, the other palm resting on the butt of his holstered gun. He cocked his head and motioned for Matt to follow him. “I don’t know, but I want to show you something.”

  Matt shook his head, his eyes following the swarm of people around Claira. “I don’t want to leave her.”

  “She’s fine, Matt. She’s probably just in shock. It will only take a minute.”

  Matt fought the urge to push his way past the EMTs to make sure she was okay. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from punching something, or someone, and followed Benton up the stairs and into the house. The rooms were flooded with light and there were several officers milling around the living room. Benton paused as they passed through the front doorway.

  “What do you make of this?” He turned and pointed to a thin, braided string running down the wall.

  Matt knelt to his haunches and followed it through a row of tiny hooks to the bottom of the door. No matter how he looked at it he couldn’t make sense of it. “What is it?”

  Benton flipped on the nearby light switch, closed the front door and looped the end of the string over the switch. “Open the door,” he ordered, nodding for Matt to follow his lead.

  Matt opened the door and the switch promptly fell into the ‘off’ position. “What the hell?”

  “Yeah, took me a few minutes to figure it out myself.” Benton scratched his head. “I know my dad wouldn’t have put this up like this before he rented the place out.”

  “Why would Claira do something like this?” Matt asked, feeling an uneasy stir in his gut.

  Benton cocked his brow and then shrugged his shoulders. He flipped the switch a few times, peered through the front window at the globe outside. “The bulb must be blown. My guess is, she’s rigged it for some kind of advanced warning system and panicked when she saw it wasn’t on. I was hoping you might be able to fill me in as to why she’d think up something like this.”

  Matt shook his head. “I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”

  “She mention anything to you about being in trouble?” Benton asked him after they stepped back out onto the front porch.

  Matt shook his head. “Mason thought she might be hidin’ from somethin’, someone, but, no. She hasn’t said a word. We only met her a few days ago. There hasn’t been time.”

  “You and your brothers seeing her?” Twin emotions played in Benton’s eyes. Shock and approval gleamed back from his cousin’s expression.

  Matt nodded. “Sort of.” He didn’t know if declaring their intentions to the local PD before talking to her about it was the smartest move, even if Benton was family.

  “I’ll try to blow off the report since this isn’t technically a crime, but watch your back, cuz. If she is runnin’ from an ex-boyfriend or some psycho…”

  A loud voice crackled over the radio at Benton’s side, rattling off a string of numeric codes before he could finish his warning. Benton responded with a string of his own and motioned for Matt to get moving. “She hyperventilated; a bit of mild shock, but they’re taking her to the hospital to be sure. I’ll call Mason and Grey if you want to go with her.”

  Matt didn’t hesitate, his feet carrying him at a dead run toward the ambulance before he could utter a response.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A light flashed and flooded the dark room long enough for Claira to see that she was in her father’s study. The pounding thunder vibrated the polished hardwood beneath her bones, prodding her to move. Her hip ached and her head was spinning, trying desperately to make sense of the darkness.

  Another flash of light sparked, this one brighter than the last and the thunder closer behind it. Shadows danced along the dark walls, creating a mystic play against the sounds of the storm. Fragmented memories filled her mind faster than she could make sense of them. Her brother! Stephan and her father were arguing. Shouts of rage filled the room and helplessness ripped at her chest. He would kill Stephan if she didn’t do something.

  Stephan! Claira pushed against the floor, bracing herself on the nearby footrest, almost fainting at the pain that wracked her body. Holding a trembling hand to her stomach, she braced her other forearm on the footstool as she waited for another flash of light.

  Stephan!

  When the next flash came, she crouched on her hands and knees and crawled through the surrounding darkness toward the door. Her hand landed in something sticky and wet, sliding out from under her. With a crack, her chin hit the floor and she rolled to her side. The smell was horrid and the nausea tripled in force causing her to wretch, losing the meager contents of her stomach.

  Stephan!

  Gasping for air she pushed forward, slipping again. She felt a hard bundle under her breasts. Her hands grasped the long, heavy object and a scream tore from her lungs as she felt the crisp hair along its surface. Hands trembling, she followed the limp limb, feeling her way to the man’s chest.

  Stephan?

  She prayed it wasn’t him, but somewhere in her shattered heart she knew it was. As if to deliver the final line of a tragic poem, another flash of light spilled through the windows and her eyes met the cold, dead stare of her only brother’s lifeless eyes.

  “Stephan! Noooo!”

  “Claira, sweetheart. Wake up.” A familiar soothing voice echoed through her nightmare. “Wake up, Claira. You’re safe, sweetheart. We have you now.”

  “We won’t let anything happen to you, darlin’. You’re safe here with us.”

  Claira’s sobs stopped. She jolted from the bed as consciousness settled in around her. Through puffy eyes she searched the darkness until her gaze settled on Matt, and then Mason lying on the bed on either side of where she’d been.

  “Where am I?” Before the words were out, more broken memories flooded her fuzzy thoughts and filled in a few of the gaps. “I’m at your house. How…?” She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to remember how she’d gotten there.

  Mason sat up beside her, cupping her shoulders with his big palms, his eyes searching to connect with her confused gaze. “Lie back down, sweetheart. You’re in Matt’s room. We brought you home from the hospital so you can rest.”

  “Hospital?” Oh God. They’d taken her to the hospital. Being admitted into a hospital was like waving a white flag. He would know where to find her. Wait. She hadn’t been admitted, if she was here. And even if she was, Lucien didn’t know her new name. All of her identification was in order. No one would question it, would they? Claira tensed, her eyes darting around the dark room. “Where’s my purse?”

  “It’s on the table in the hall,” Mason spoke in hushed tones, trying to soothe her sudden panic. “Would you like me to get it for you?”

  Claira studied him for a moment, both concern and helplessness evident in his expression. She shook her head. She was safe there, for the moment. “Where are the twins?” She couldn’t let them find her in their fathers’ bed.

  “They’re at our parent’s for the night, sweetheart. The doctors said you needed rest.”

  She remembered snippets of the EMTs treating her in her front yard, and Matt’s eyes staring down at her. She turned to look at Matt, reaching out to touch his face as her memory crystallized. He was okay. “I’m so sorry,” she sighed, her lips trembling to hold back a sob. “I should never have—”

  “Darlin’, don’t say that.” Matt sat u
p behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “You did nothin’ to be sorry for. We should’ve called you before we came over to look at the water heater. Frank said it would be days if he had to do it on his own, so Mason and I met him there this mornin’ to help. He wanted to wait for you to come home, but I didn’t think you’d mind. I’m the one who’s sorry, Claira. It was my fault they didn’t wait for you.”

  Claira tensed at the thought of Matt inside the house alone with that monster. “But how did you get in? I changed the locks and Frank didn’t have a key.”

  “The door was unlocked when we got there. Sweetheart, this is a small town, but not that small. And you live in the city proper. You should lock your doors when you’re not there.” Mason met Matt’s stare over Claira’s head, but she didn’t understand the look they shared.

  “It wasn’t locked?” She didn’t understand. She always locked her door, as well as completed all of the other steps she’d incorporated into her routine. Had she been so distracted by her thoughts of them that she’d forgotten to lock the door?

  “What about the alarm?” She asked with a yawn. Feeling a bit dizzy, she reached up and massaged her throbbing temples.

  “Frank punched in the code,” Matt said pulling her down to the mattress to lie beside him. He snuggled her to his chest and pressed his lips to the top of her forehead. “Just relax, darlin’. It was all a big misunderstanding. We didn’t mean to scare you. We can talk about it in the mornin’.”

  That sounded right. Frank knew the security code. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t locked the door. Her lungs filled with fresh air on another deep yawn.

  “The sedative the nurse gave you is still making you groggy, sweetheart. Sleep and we’ll talk about all this in the morning.” Mason stretched out behind her and settled his chin on her shoulder, pressing a light kiss to her neck.

  “What time is it?” She asked on another yawn, unable to resist snuggling into their comforting warmth.