Return to Falcon Ridge

by Rita Herron

  If he moved, she might have regrets and push him away. He’d never put his heart and soul on the line for a woman before. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened this time. He sure as hell hadn’t meant to.

  She traced her fingers up and down his back, and he realized he might be smothering her, so he rolled them to the side, still holding her in his arms so their bodies were wound together.

  He brushed a kiss on the top of her head, then threaded his fingers through her hair. “Are you okay, Elsie?”

  A small giggle escaped her, then she looked up into his eyes, and his heart melted again.

  “I’m wonderful” she whispered against his chest. “I…I’ve never felt that with anyone else.”

  And she damn well wouldn’t ever again. He bit back the comment, then tilted her chin up and kissed her. “I don’t want to ever let you go.”

  Tears moistened her eyelashes, but she blinked them away, then curled into his arms and rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat picked up. “I want this night to last forever.”

  He smiled for a minute, then frowned, wondering at her statement. Did she mean that tonight would be their only night together? No.

  He forgot the question, though, as Elsie nibbled on his chin again. He didn’t want to talk anyway. He wanted to make love to her over and over until she realized that she would never be able to leave him….

  THE TIME HAD COME to finish Elsie Timmons. And that man…Falcon. He wanted to kill him, but he’d done his homework and learned Falcon had two brothers who worked with him. They’d probably come hunting for his killer if he died, and he would never have peace.

  He pulled the cloak snugly around him and raised the hood that shielded his ugliness from the world, hating that he had to live in the shadows. The devil, they called him. The little kids ran. The women screamed in horror.

  Only a while longer…then he would be free. Free of the ghosts that had haunted him ever since Hattie Mae had died….

  Damn her.

  Why had she given that house to the Timmons girl? Just to punish him.

  She was the one who deserved punishment, to rot in her grave for her betrayal.

  Formulating a plan in his mind, he struggled against the wind as he weaved through the forest. The storm that threatened loomed dark and ominous, and the first cackle of thunder rent the air, lightning zigzagging across the tops of the mountain ridge, the scent of its wrath scorching the air.

  Darkness cloaked Wildcat Manor, the absence of light telling him that Elsie and Falcon were asleep. Now was the perfect time to strike.

  A wicked grin lifted the corner of his mouth as he imagined his hands tightening around Elsie’s throat, and the look of terror on her face when she realized that she was going to die. To think, that she had run from the manor to escape her sins. Yet she had never really escaped them, no matter how hard she’d tried.

  Now he would make her his before she died….

  THE STORM RAGED OUTSIDE, snapping tree limbs and sending them banging against the windows and the roof. Elsie jerked fully awake. Deke stirred beside her, his arms firmly around her. She felt so safe in his arms, but the storm’s fury rattled the windowpanes and the fire had gone out during the night, pitching them in darkness. A loud boom sounded as if an electrical pole had been hit by lightning, then another loud boom. Maybe a tree falling?

  “Deke?”

  “I’m here.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, then t up and felt for the light switch. When he flicked it, nothing happened.

  “The storm must have blown out the generator,” Elsie said, shivering from the chill in the room.

  “I’ll go check,” Deke said. He stood and Elsie saw his naked body highlighted by a streak of lightning and her heart throbbed.

  “Deke?”

  “Yeah?” He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on.

  God, his voice was so gruff yet tender. “Thank you for last night.”

  He paused and turned to her, then leaned over the bed and cupped her face in his hands. “That was only the beginning. I’ll be right back.” He took her gun from the end table and laid it beside her. “Use this if you need to.”

  The sight of the gun destroyed the simmering memory of their lovemaking and reminded her of their earlier close call with death.

  He checked his own weapon, then stepped out of the bedroom. The stairs squeaked as he descended, the never-ending fear swallowing her as he moved farther and farther from her side.

  What if someone was in the house and turned off the lights as a trap?

  Nerves skittered through her as she waited. Maybe the person who’d tried to run them off the road had followed them here? He was probably the same one who’d tried to kill her before. He knew exactly where she lived.

  What if he hurt Deke?

  Tension drew her shoulders back and fired her senses. She slipped on her robe, tightened the belt, then clutched her gun in her right hand. Bracing herself for a fight, she tiptoed to the door, pausing to listen. Something rattled in the basement. Thunder added to the tension, rain pounded the roof. The wind’s shrill whistle sent a chill down her spine.

  She stepped into the hallway and scanned the dark interior, but suddenly the whisper of a breath brushed her neck.

  The scent of oil, smoke and sandalwood engulfed her. She froze, memories interrupting her rational thoughts. He was here. She knew it.

  The man who’d sent her fleeing the manor in terror. The man who’d brutalized and terrorized and killed the young girls.

  The man she’d killed.

  No, it couldn’t be. It was his ghost. That or someone was driving her crazy.

  Her fingers tightened on the gun, and she pivoted, but suddenly a hand clamped down over her mouth and another one gripped her around the neck.

  “Scream or fight me, and your lover boy dies.”

  DEKE HAD THE FEELING that something bad was about to happen.

  He always trusted his instincts, but in this case, he had no idea if the trouble he sensed was due to the past day’s events, to the danger following Elsie or to the fact that he’d made love to her and that he expected any second for her to run away.

  For God’s sake, man, get a grip. If she does’t want you, hell, you can take her back to her mother’s and walk away. Reuniting her with her mother was your job.

  Sleeping with her hadn’t been part of the bargain.

  He cursed at the darkness and slanted the flashlight across the basement, his skin crawling at the sight of the walls ripped apart, and the memory of finding the girls’ bodies. Hodges had killed those girls, but who was trying to kill Elsie?

  As he crossed the room to find the fuse box, he contemplated the suspects so far. Mires had been one of them—but now he was dead. Renee Leberman had also died, a suspicious death according to her mother.

  The sheriff and the lawyer in town had reputations to uphold and would definitely want to cover up the past if it meant exposing them as possible accessories to abuse, murder and perhaps an illegal adoption ring. The coroner had denied that any babies or children had ever died at the center, but he had lied. Of course, there was the possibility that Hodges had covered up the deaths and the coroner hadn’t known.

  He was still going in circles.

  He finally located the fuse box and quickly corrected what he thought might be the problem, but the lights remained off. Hmm. Maybe someone had had an accident and hit a power line or transformer. If so, it would take time to repair it.

  Not wanting to leave Elsie for long, he turned to head back upstairs but a shadow from the back room caught his eye, and a scraping sound punctuated the eerie quiet. A second later he opened the door, and his pulse hammered.

  The sheriff dangled from a rope attached to the ceiling, his body limp like a rag doll, his eyes glazed open in death.

  The toes of his shoes scraped the steel table below him as he swung back and forth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reality sent Elsie spiraling into utter shoc
k. This couldn’t be happening.

  He could not have survived. Not that horrendous fire….

  And if he had, how and why had Hattie Mae kept his survival a secret?

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said in that low coarse breath that had always nauseated her. “I’m back from the dead.”

  “But…how?” Elsie squeaked out.

  “That’s not important. What matters now is you and that detective.” He leaned so close she felt his cheek against her hair. “Do you want me to kill him?”

  A tremor ran through Elsie. She was in love with Deke. “No, God, no, please. I’ll…do anything you say.”

  His bitter laugh rumbled out. “Then write him a goodbye note.” He pushed her back into the room, then tossed a pad and pen on the desk by the door.

  Elsie’s hand trembled as she dropped into the chair. He kept the gun pointed at her head, and threw her revolver on the bed and out of reach. “What do I say?” Elsie stammered.

  “Whatever you have to, to keep him from following us.”

  Elsie struggled for words. Deke was hardheaded, driven, would not give up easily. He’d put himself on the line for her. She couldn’t let him die because of her. She’d never forgive herself.

  But he wouldn’t give up the case. Not and leave her mother without answers. Not and leave her…or would he?

  His heart and body…that was it. She had to lie. Tell him she didn’t want to be with him. Her fingers worked of their own accord, quickly scribbling the message on the page. All lies, but also words to protect him.

  Words that would seal her fate.

  But living with his death on her conscience would be worse than death itself. Besides, Hodges would kill her anyway. Maybe by saving Deke she could rest in peace with honor attached to her name, not the evil that had tainted her all her life.

  He snatched the pen from her as soon as she finished, then jerked her arm. “Come on, Elsie. It’s time you and I got reacquainted.”

  She shivered, wondering if she could fight him off. But better wait until she got out of the house. Until Deke was safe.

  He led her down the back stairway through the closet in the dorm room. Deke had nailed it shut, but he had already ripped away the nails. Probably while they’d been gone today. Seconds later, he dragged her through the rain and thunder into the woods. Her bare feet slapped across mud, stones and twigs as he shoved her into her car. He held her car keys in his hand and ordered her to drive.

  Summoning her courage, she glanced sideways, but the dark hood shielded his face, the black night offering only a faint outline of his shape. Then he turned his head sideways and a flash of lightning illuminated the purple and red scars on his cheek. His left eye drooped, the skin around it mangled and discolored. Hatred and the madness of a killer lurked in his eyes.

  “You like what you did to me, Elsie? You turned me into a monster.”

  Her heart pitched. “You were a monster before. You hurt all those girls, murdered some of them—”

  He aimed the gun at her face. “Shut up and drive, you bitch.”

  Her fingers shook as she turned the key. The engine roared to life, a deafening sound that punctuated the tension thrumming through her body. She squeezed the steering wheel with clammy palms, knowing the minute she pressed the gas pedal, the car would take her farther and farther from the man she loved.

  And into the lethal hands of a killer.

  DEKE RACED UP THE STEPS from the basement, the dark house making it almost impossible to see, but he had to get to Elsie. If the man who’d killed Sheriff Bush was still in the house, he might go after her.

  Before he reached the second floor, the sound of an engine cut into the night. He raced to the front door, threw it open and saw Elsie’s car barreling down the drive. What the hell? Was Elsie driving? Was she alone in the car?

  Or did the killer have he

  Panic gnawed at his throat as he jogged up the steps to the second floor, yelling her name. “Elsie! Elsie, are you here?”

  He threw open the door to the bedroom, praying she was still in bed waiting for him, but the room was empty. The sheets were rumpled, their towels draped in the bathroom where they’d left them. But nothing else was disturbed.

  He spotted the note on the desk, and frowned, then picked it up and recognized Elsie’s handwriting.

  Dear Deke,

  I can’t take living in this town anymore. Being with you is smothering me. Tell my mother I’ll come home someday, but not now. And tell her that I love her.

  Please don’t follow me. I need to be alone and on the road just like my father.

  Elsie

  For a second, Deke simply stared at the scribbled words, a sharp pain jabbing at his chest. He was smothering Elsie. She needed to be alone, away from him.

  Emotions twisted inside him, ripping him apart. He’d known that making love to her would change things. Had hoped it would bring them closer. And it had in his mind. He’d thought she’d felt it, too.

  But obviously the feelings were one-sided.

  Trying to dam the emotions rolling through him, Deke fell back on his anger.

  He’d be fine without her.

  But damn it, he’d promised Deanna he’d bring her daughter home, and he never went back on a promise. Besides, Elsie was in danger.

  And he’d screwed up by making love to her, by frightening her so badly that she’d run off without a care for her own safety.

  The image of the sheriff’s body dangling from the rope in the basement seared his conscience again, and he jerked himself from his stupor. Someone had been in the house. A killer.

  What if he’d gotten to Elsie? What if he’d made her write the note? What if he was with her?

  He crumpled the note and threw it on the floor. When it hit the rug, he noticed a footprint impression. He knelt and felt the carpet. It was wet. A bootprint. Slightly muddy around the edges.

  Damn it. The killer had been in here. And he had Elsie.

  Fear screamed in his head, and he ran for the door, then realized he didn’t have a car. He couldn’t call the sheriff, either, because he was dead, but he’d call some locals.

  He stumbled through the room to the nightstand and found his cell phone, then punched the number for his old friend, FBI Agent William Thurman, in Nashville. Thurman was helping his brother Brack track down Elsie’s father.

  “Agent Thurman.”

  “Will, it’s Deke Falcon. I need your help.”

  “Is this about the Timmons woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “I found her father. I was just about to fax a report to Brack.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s dead, Deke. Died in an alcohol-related accident five years ago.”

  He’d deserved something even more painful. “Listen, I need you to come and get me.” He explained the circumstances. “I’ll fill you in on everything else when you get here. But bring a crime scene unit with you. The local sheriff is dead in the basement.”

  Thurman hissed. “Let the nearest local cops know and I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  God, twenty minutes. Elsie might be dead by then. No, he couldn’t think that way. She was strong, a fighter. She would make it through this. And he would take her home to Deanna.

  Then he’d leave her alone and give her all the space she needed.

  TEN MILES. Elsie had counted them, studied the directions, tried to memorize the route they’d taken in case she had a chance to escape. Chilled from the cold air seeping into the car and with fear gripping her, she clutched the terry cloth robe to her neck as she parked in front of the old cabin Hodges had forced her to drive to. She’d wound through several smaller dirt side roads until they were hidden so far back into the woods, no one would ever find her.

  Despair threatened to rob her sanity, but she fought it. Just as it had been when she’d lived on the streets, she had to depend on herself if she was going to make it out of this mess alive. She’d done things she wasn’t proud o
f in order to survive. She would do so again if it meant escaping Hodges. And this time, she’d expose all his dirty little secrets and make him pay by going to jail.

  He shoved the gun in her side. “Get out, and don’t try to run or I’ll shoot you in the back.”

  Fear reared its ugly head, memories of her years at Wildcat Manor crashing back. But they hadn’t destroyed her then, at least not completely. She’d met Deke, learned to trust again, even thought she might have a future with him.

  Those bad memories couldn’t hold her prisoner anymore. No, she would use them to fuel her anger, make her stronger, help her win the battle between good and evil.

  Her bare feet stung as she stepped onto the icy ground, but she swallowed back the pain and forced her feet to move. Hodges yanked his cape around his shoulders, shoved the gun in her back and walked behind her, the sound of his labored breathing drilling the tension deeper inside her body. She took calming breaths, formulating a plan.

  Go inside the cabin, scope it out for a weapon. Play it cool. Stall. Strike when you get the chance.

  The rain slashed her cheeks, the wind tossing her hair around her eyes. He opened the door and she stepped inside, the instant heat of a wood-burning stove filling the room. Except for a bed, chair and a small scarred wooden table, the room was almost bare.

  “See how you forced me to live?” Hodges grunted. “Like an animal.”

  Hwas one, she wanted to say, but refrained, knowing she’d only rile his temper. “Tell me why you hurt those girls,” she whispered. “Miss Hattie Mae loved you at one time.”

  “She failed me,” he snarled. “And the girls were so tempting. They asked for it by being sluts.”

  “They needed guidance and love,” Elsie argued. “And Hattie Mae deserved better.”

  Anger reddened his discolored face, making the scars even more prominent. “She was going to betray me at the end,” he growled. “She wanted to tell everyone I was still alive. That I had abused those girls, but I only gave them the punishment they deserved.”