Return To Falcon Ridge

Elsie’s blunt comment took him off guard. “I… At first that was the reason.”

“And now?”

Wariness darkened her eyes, but desire also flickered in the depths. Deke didn’t quite know how to answer.

“Now…” He hesitated, hating the churning in his stomach. “Now I want to protect you.”

Disappointment tightened her mouth. “Because you think I’m helpless? Well, I’m not, Deke. I know how to fight, how to take care of myself, how to shoot that gun. And I won’t hesitate to do it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to face everything alone all the time, Elsie.”

Emotions clouded her eyes. “I don’t know any other way.”

He twined her fingers in his own, stroking her palm with his other hand as he pulled her into his lap. “Let me show you.”

Return to Falcon Ridge

Rita Herron

To all those fans who read The Man from Falcon Ridge and asked for Elsie’s story—hope you enjoy!

And to Jenny Bent for loving the dark, creepy stuff!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romantic hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her Web site at www.ritaherron.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Deke Falcon—A tough P.I. with a soft spot for wounded birds of prey—and women in trouble.

Elsie Timmons—She disappeared twenty years ago. But now that she’s returned to Wildcat, Tennessee, someone wants her dead.

Howard Hodges—Just the thought of the man gives Elsie nightmares. Will the vile acts he committed against the girls at Wildcat Manor be exposed?

Hattie Mae Hodges—Did she die of natural causes, or was she murdered to stop her from telling the truth about what happened at Wildcat Manor?

Sheriff Andy Bush—He vowed to protect the citizens of Wildcat—but he wants Elsie run out of town at any cost.

Dr. Morty Mires—He provided health care for the pregnant teens housed at Wildcat Manor. But what is he hiding?

Burt Thompson—How far will he go to keep Elsie from digging up the past?

Renee Leberman—The social worker who helped arrange the adoptions for the pregnant teens died suddenly. What secrets did she take to her grave?

Eleanor Cross & Donna Burgess—They both adopted babies from teens at the orphanage, and will do anything to stop Elsie from exposing the adoptions.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Prologue

She was going to die in Wildcat Manor.

Fourteen-year-old Elsie Timmons shivered as the lock turned on the door, sealing the girls into their dismal cavern. The orphanage was haunted.

At night, the cries and screams taunted her. But they were her punishment.

And this was where she belonged. In the town of the damned where wildcats as big as tigers roamed the woods. Where the unwanted were hidden away forever. Where children disappeared into the forest, possibly eaten by the monsters.

Because they were all evil.

Elsie had known she was ever since she was four. Ever since she’d told her mama that the man next door was hurting her friend Hailey. Then Hailey and her family had been butchered, and her daddy had dragged her off, claiming they’d come for her next. Either the killer or the law.

Because she had brought the evil upon Hailey and her family.

Tears filled her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks. She wanted to change, but then she’d failed, and Daddy had left her here, alone, trapped in the tangled lies of Wildcat Manor.

Her hand went to her stomach. The images of the dark basement where she’d been taken last week still tormented her dreams. The sounds of her own cries. The sounds of others. The gripping pain that she had barely survived.

The emptiness that now consumed her.

Trees rattled and shook their winter fury against the thin, fog-coated glass panes, shrouding any light from the outside. Heavy footsteps shuffled down the corridor outside her room, and she hunched over in the shadows of the wall behind her bed, hoping to be invisible.

Little Torrie huddled beneath the faded quilts covering her cot, a low whimper of fear drifting toward her. Elsie was big and could take care of herself. She had been doing it for ages.

Torrie was nothing but a child, only eleven, with long blond hair and the eyes of an angel. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her….

Suddenly a key rattled in the door, and the ancient stone walls throbbed with the sound of the door screeching open. Elsie held her breath as he entered. The vile smell of whiskey floated into the musty space, and evil kissed her neck as he shuffled forward in the darkness. Every muscle in her body clenched with terror. He slanted her a sinister smile that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She braced herself for his nasty fingers to close around her, but he turned and snatched Torrie from beneath the covers. She kicked and screamed, a haunting sound that echoed off the walls and sent a spasm of nausea to Elsie’s stomach. Without a word, he dragged her through the darkness into the hall, then his husky voice thundered with anger, and a slap resounded through the air.

Elsie sobbed and stood on wobbling legs. She couldn’t let him hurt Torrie. She was too little, too sweet, too innocent.

Elsie had never been innocent.

She gathered her courage, then tiptoed down the hall, ducking into the corners when he paused. Surely she was wrong. Maybe they’d found a home for Torrie. Maybe someone had come to adopt her.

After all, Hattie Mae had promised them all hope when they’d been left on her doorstep.

Trying to pad softly, she continued to follow him until he reached the basement. There, her palms grew sweaty and her heart pounded. He flung open the door and threw Torrie over his shoulder. Torrie wasn’t moving now, and Elsie realized he had knocked her unconsciousness.

Dear God, what was he going to do to her?

Fear piercing her, she descended the stairs in his shadow, searching the dimly lit basement, and trying to banish the image of the night she had spent in the chamber of horrors. Seconds later, he knelt in front of Torrie. “We’re going to play a little game, Torrie. Do you like games?”

“She’s too young,” Elsie screamed. “Leave her alone, you monster!”

He pounced toward her, his eyes flashing with anger. Elsie grabbed the lantern and flung it toward him. The glass shattered, oil spilling onto the concrete floor, then it burst into flames. He bellowed with rage and sprinted toward her, but the fire shot into a mountainous blaze that caught his shirtsleeve and rippled upward. His loud horrified scream wrenched the air. Elsie jolted sideways, and ran for Torrie. She moaned, but Elsie shook her.

“Come on, Torrie, we have to get out of here!”

Torrie’s eyes flickered open, then terror filled them as she saw the fire. He screamed and slapped at the flames eating his clothes and skin. Elsie grabbed Torrie’s hand, and they darted away from his reach. Fire rippled along the floor, and snapped at the wooden table near the bed. The sheets and bedding exploded into flames. Smoke hurled through the air, wood popping and splintering.

He threw himself on the floor, rolling to put out the fire while Elsie pulled Torrie through the flames to escape. But fire blocked the stairwell, their only exit. “We’re going to die!” Torrie cried.

Panic clawed at Elsie. Torrie was right.

There was no way out.

Chapter One

Ten years later

“Please, Deke, you have to find Mrs. Timmons’s daughter, Elsie.”

Deke Falcon grimaced at his older brother, Rex, and Rex’s new wife Hailey. Their lives had been in an upheaval for twenty years, ever since his father had been convicted of murdering Hailey’s parents. Rex had fought tooth and nail this last year to free their father, and finally, uncovered the truth about the brutal slaying of the Lyle family.

Now Hailey wanted his help. How could he deny his brother’s wife after all the pain she had endured? After the way she’d blamed herself for their father’s lost years when she’d suffered herself. And Rex loved her senseless so now she was family, too.

Mrs. Timmons’s hand trembled as she reached for his. Anger had been his friend for the past few years, but the subtle gentleness in her touch made him want to let go of the emotion. Trouble was, he didn’t know how.

“This is the last picture I have of her,” Mrs. Timmons said softly. “She was only four years old when she went missing.”

He studied the faded, worn-out picture, knew Mrs. Timmons had looked at it constantly the same way he had the photo of his father that he’d carried in his wallet for two decades.

Elsie Timmons, at four, was a cute kid with a gap-toothed smile, a freckled pale face and long dark curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her big brown eyes were almost haunting.

Where was the little girl? Had her father kidnapped her, or had something more sinister happened? Was she lost forever?

“I thought my husband took her to hurt me,” she said, “but when they found that grave in the woods, I w-was certain she was dead.”

“Those bones were too old to be Elsie’s,” Rex said.

“Which means she might still be alive and out there.” Hailey’s face brightened with hope. Hailey and Elsie had been childhood friends, and she had bonded with Elsie’s mother.

Tears shimmered in Mrs. Timmons’s worried eyes. “I…don’t know if she’ll want to see me,” she said. “Or what her father told her about me, but I can’t leave this world without trying to find her one more time.”

“Hush that talk.” Hailey squeezed the older woman’s hands. “You’re going to live forever, and Elsie is coming back to us. I just know it.”

Anxiety wormed inside Deke’s chest. What if he failed? What if he found Elsie and she wanted nothing to do with her mother? Or what if something awful had happened to her and he had to bring back bad news?

Could Deanna Timmons survive it?

Loyalty to her won out. She was the only person in town who’d stood beside Deke’s mother when his father had been arrested. And he knew the pain of having someone ripped from his arms. His hope had dwindled with every year his father had been imprisoned just as Mrs. Timmons’s hope had.

“All right. Do you have any information that might help?”

Mrs. Timmons smiled although her lower lip trembled. “I have the files the private investigator kept when he searched for her twenty years ago. At one time, he traced my ex south. I believe it was Alabama or maybe Tennessee.”

She handed him a folder. “Thank you so much, Mr. Falcon. I can’t tell you what it would mean to see my daughter again.”

Deke swallowed hard. She didn’t have to tell him. He’d felt the same way when his father had been reunited with the family.

Although nothing could replace the years they’d lost….

His chest heaved with tension as he finally looked up at Mrs. Timmons. As a falconer, he had a strong calling to the wild, to the animalistic nature within him. At times, he also experienced dark emotions, and his senses seemed heightened.

Those instincts told him that if he found Elsie Timmons, she would be nothing like the child in the picture. Something bad had happened when she’d left Falcon Ridge. She was entrenched in evil and darkness.

He’d have to figure out the trouble when he found her. And then he’d decide what to do with the truth.

Sweat beaded his lip as the need to flee into the woods gripped him. Thankfully, he managed to control his tremors as he shook her hand. “I’ll do everything I can to find her, Mrs. Timmons.”

His chest clenched at her trusting look, and he turned and disappeared outside. Seconds later, he ran through the woods, filling his nostrils with the scents of nature. Lifting his head toward the heavens, he searched the sky for the birds of prey that had come to be his friends.

Other than his brothers, they were the only ones he trusted.

The only ones that could assuage the bitterness inside him.

DEATH WHISPERED her name.

Hattie Mae Hodges clutched the bedcovers with gnarled fingers as she peered through the blackness, searching for help. In her heart, she knew it was too late. She had made a deal with the devil years ago and had no one to blame but herself.

Still, she could not succumb to the terror. And she had no right to beg for mercy.

The sense of evil whirled around her, filling the hollow eaves and shadows of the house, reverberating through each icy corner. Trees rattled and shook snow against the thin glass panes, shrouding any remaining light from the deep haunting woods that surrounded them.

The sound of a footstep broke the eerie quiet. A heavy boot. A shuffle of his gimp leg. The smell of death.

“Go away and leave me in peace,” she murmured, too frail and weak now to escape her bed or his unwelcome visit.

“I warned you, Hattie Mae. You must take your promises and the truth with you to your grave.”

A second later, his hands closed around her neck. Darkness engulfed her as she choked for air, the blinding pain of his grip making her body jerk involuntarily. His sinister laugh reverberated through the room, muffled only slightly by the thick feather pillow he shoved over her face.

Images of the lost girls floated across her mind, as vivid as they were the day the children had come to her. Ann. Jessie. Marge. Carrie. Wanda. Felicity. Torrie. Elsie.

God…little Elsie Timmons.

Hattie Mae had promised them help. Redemption. Hope.

But she had let them all down.

Their terrified screams and cries of horror haunted her at night. The innocent babies stolen from their families, crying for their mothers long into the twilight. The girls’ hollow, empty eyes filled with anguish as their own young were viciously stripped away, their bodies left with gaping holes where life had once grown, replaced with a pain so deep that it clawed at their insides, all the way to the cores of their very being.

All because of her husband.

No, it had been her fault.

She gasped for air, the acrid burn of her stomach rising to her throat. In her mind, the image of his charred body taunted her. God help her. She should have tried to help him.

But she hadn’t. He had deserved to die, just as she did.

Her chest felt heavy. Her limbs weighted. Her head was spinning. Tiny dots of lights twirled, then faded.

Hattie Mae went limp, too close to death to struggle any longer, ready to welcome the peace if any existed.

Please, God, forgive me. I will find a way to expose the sinful secrets of Wildcat Manor, she silently vowed. And to atone for my sins, if you let me.

A black cauldron of despair swallowed her. She had no power in death. Her soul was lost completely.

Unless she found a way to return from the grave to haunt him.

Two weeks later

ELSIE TIMMONS STARED at the letter from Hattie Mae Hodges in shock. She hadn’t heard from the woman in ten years, had not spoken to her or heard Howard Hodges’s name during that time, either. But their faces and the ghosts of Wildcat Manor had followed her everywhere she’d been.

And she’d lived all over the South since. Running from town to town. From name to name. Hiding out. Trying to find her way. Trying to escape the darkness and evil that tainted her own soul.

She blinked back tears of pain and fear as memories washed over her in a blinding rush. She had to compartmentalize them as she’d always done. It was the only way she’d survived.

Then she began to read.

Dear Elsie,

I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately, if you’ve received it, it means that I’m no longer alive. I carry my sins with me, my dear, but I want you to know how much I regret letting you girls down. I know I offered you hope yet stood idly by and allowed you to be robbed of that and so much more.

God may never forgive me, Elsie, but that’s my cross to bear. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I heard that you were a social worker now. You will do the good I should have done. For that reason, I am leaving Wildcat Manor to you in hopes that you’ll turn it into the kind of place it should have been.

May God be with you, child, and protect you always.

Hattie Mae Hodges

Elsie’s hand trembled at the mere thought of returning to Wildcat Manor. Vivid images of Howard Hodges’s body erupting into flames cut into her thoughts, the nightmares that destroyed her sleep shifting in front of her eyes. Outside, the wind howled through the mountains, the brisk temperature swirling through the thin rattling window panes, the ominous clouds threatening a snowstorm or at the least, heavy rains.

Her hand fell to her stomach as other memories flooded her. The shrill screams of the girls. The scent of chemicals and dust and…bodily fluids. The beady eyes of their tormentor flickering in the darkness as he approached in the heat of the night. The hollow feeling that consumed her afterward, the devastating pain of knowing that she had lost everything.

That she was not worthy of love.

No, she could not return to Wildcat Manor. Not now. Not ever.

Not even to try and make things right.

DEKE HAD SPENT TWO WEEKS tracking down Elsie Timmons. First to a hovel in Nashville. Then to Alabama. Then to Georgia. And now back to Tennessee to a small town set so deep into the mountains that a person might get lost forever.

But he and his brothers had expert resources. Their private investigative business had been housed in Arizona for the past few years, but with Rex’s return to Falcon Ridge, they had established a second office at Falcon Ridge.

Elsie was on the run. Never stayed in one place for very long. Which meant she was either scared or hiding something.

Determined to find the answers, he parked in front of Bodine’s B & B, then made his way up the sloped, graveled drive. A view of the mountains offered a peaceful retreat for guests, the valleys and gorges behind almost as magnificent as the ones in Colorado. A handmade wreath adorned the front door, composed of dried flowers and ribbons, and a three-foot-tall metal sculpture of a covered wagon graced the porch, flanked by two rocking chairs and an empty whiskey barrel.

Maybe the case would be a piece of cake. He’d introduce himself, inform Elsie that her mother had sent him looking for her and she’d jump at the chance to go home. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, though, mocking his theory.

The cold winter wind beat at his leather bomber jacket as he turned the doorknob, the scent of pine and cinnamon apples enveloping him as he strode toward the desk.

“Deke Falcon, Miss Bodine.” He tipped his head in greeting. “I’m here to see Elsie Timmons.”

The owner peered at him over wire-rimmed glasses. “Don’t have anyone by that name.”

Damn. What name had she used here? “Can you try Elsie Thyme?” She’d used that one in school. “I’m a friend of her mother’s,” he said, when she continued to scrutinize him. “She sent me for Elsie.”

“Oh, dear, Elsie didn’t mention her folks.”

He nodded, not surprised, then noted her name tag said Beverly, so decided to sway her with a lie. “Beverly, Elsie’s mother’s not well right now. I…thought she should know.”

“Oh, of course. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

Just heartsick from missing her child. “She should recover, but she’s asking for her. You understand.”

Beverly clucked her tongue in compassion, then visibly relaxed. “I sure do, honey. Elsie’s in room five, upstairs.”

Deke nodded, then climbed the steps, and knocked. Finally a woman opened the door.

For a moment, the breath was trapped in his lungs as he stared at her. While Elsie had been cute as a child, with eyes so big they had dominated her face, now she was a stunning woman. Her long dark hair lay in curls around a heart-shaped face, falling down her back, the natural highlights complemented by her gold sweater and her flowing skirt. Her skin glowed as if it had been kissed by the sun, and her lips were a natural rosy color that drew his eyes to her mouth. Such a sensuous mouth. Her lips would be soft. Supple. Tender.

She tensed as if he had offended her with his look, her long dark lashes fluttering. “Excuse me, who are you?”

He cleared his throat. Fear darkened the brown depths of her huge eyes, but shades of gold and oranges like the burnished copper of the sunset after a hot day mingled with the brown.

“I’m Deke Falcon, a private investigator,” he said in a gruff voice. “You’re Elsie Timmons, right?”

Her eyes widened even farther. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong room. My name is Elsie Thyme.”

He stared at her dead-on, willing her to confess the lie. Instead, she shoved the door closed in his face. He stood for several seconds, then knocked again, but she refused to answer. Damn it, he shouldn’t have told her he was a P.I.

Frustrated but unwilling to give up, he descended the stairs, grateful Beverly Bodine wasn’t at the desk, then decided to wait outside. A short time later, he was slumped low in the seat of his Range Rover as she rushed outside with a suitcase in her hand.

She was going to leave town just as he’d anticipated. He would follow her.

And he’d find out exactly why she was on the run.

PANIC SEIZED ELSIE as she tore down the drive from Bodine’s. Deke Falcon was a P.I. Who did he work for? And why had he come looking for her?

Could he possibly know about the fire ten years ago? Or some of the things she’d done after she’d left Wildcat Manor?

Had her past finally caught up with her?

Dear God, no. She had done bad things, but she was trying to make amends. She wanted to help others now. Protect the troubled kids just as someone should have protected her.

The lush mountaintops surrounded her, the small side roads and valleys offering the possibility of a place to hide. She whipped her car onto a country road that led across the mountain, then cast a desperate glance over her shoulder to see if the man had followed her.

Deke Falcon? What did he want and who was he working for? It had been ten years since she’d set Howard Hodges on fire…since she’d left him to die. Why look for her now?

Hattie Mae’s death. Maybe the police had discovered something about his murder now that Hattie Mae was gone. But surely Hattie Mae wouldn’t have willed her the manor if she intended to call the police on her.

Maybe her guilt had gotten to her and she wanted to make her own amends before death.

The terrifying night she’d escaped with Torrie roared back, the horrid images replacing the majestic mountain view. She and Torrie had run for what had seemed like hours. Then she’d finally found a church and dropped off Torrie, hoping someone would save the girl and give her a better life. She’d been too afraid to stay herself, had figured the police would be on her tail.