“Are you only being nice to me because you think you owe it to my family?”

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.

Over the years, she’d wondered what had happened to Torrie. One reason she’d decided to go into social work.

A truck roared up, zooming close to her rear, and she sped up slightly, although the curve in the road veered deep to the right, and she crossed the center line. An oncoming car blasted its horn and Elsie overcompensated. Her tires screeched, wheels locking. She skidded on the icy pavement and said a silent prayer that her car wouldn’t nosedive over the barrier. The sludgy ice spewed from her tires, the gears grinding. But at the last moment, she regained control and eased it back between the lines.

Her heart racing, she glanced behind to see if the Falcon man trailed her, but once again didn’t spot him, so she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she’d lost him.

Only he didn’t look the type of man to give up. He was hard looking, tough, brusque, angry, a man who lived in the wilderness. His thick dark hair was overly long, and as untamed as a wild animal’s. Dark beard stubble roughened his bronzed skin, and his mouth was set tight, as if it had never seen a smile. And his hands…they were large, dark, callused…weapons he could use to force a woman to do whatever he wanted.

A shudder coursed up her spine.

If he hadn’t looked so intimidating, she would have called him handsome, but Elsie had learned long ago that men couldn’t be trusted. They took what they wanted, trampled on you, then sauntered away without a backward glance.

No, it was best she had run. But where should she go now?

Hattie Mae’s offer flirted with her subconscious. She’d been looking for a place to open a teen center when she’d come to Tennessee. But Wildcat Manor?

According to legends, Wildcat, Tennessee, had been dubbed the town of the damned for generations. Elsie had learned the hard way the reason for its name. The stories of ghosts and spirits that haunted the village. Of the wildcats who preyed on innocent girls, and the devil that lived in the woods. Some even gossiped that werecats roamed the area, hunting for prey.

The memory of the poor kids that she’d left behind rose to haunt her. The paper reported that all the children had survived. The orphanage had been disbanded after the fire, but she’d never been able to find out where the girls had gone.

If evil lived in the town, the people needed her to help expunge it. Maybe in doing so, she could absolve herself of the guilt that weighed on her conscience for leaving the other girls, for deserting Torrie, for her own sins….

A plan took shape in her mind. She would refurbish the place and offer hope to the young and troubled.

If she accomplished that miracle, maybe she could sleep peacefully without ghosts filling her dreams and the sounds of crying children echoing in her head, constantly torturing her. The clouds grew ominous, the wind whipping tree branches and dead leaves across the deserted mountain road as she headed toward Wildcat. Images of the monsters and overgrown wildcats popped in and out of her mind as if they were congregating in the woods to drive her away when she returned.

She clutched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip and perspiration dotted her face as she approached the town. Sleet slashed the windows, fogging the windshield and making the road slick with black ice. Whispers of danger floated through the air, and the daunting eyes of the devil as he waited for her return pierced the darkness.

Her nerves pinged as she parked at the deserted building. The stone structure looked even more macabre with weeds and vines climbing the sides. Burned and charred stone still covered the bottom floor wall, and the wildcat turrets flanking the massive front door practically growled into the wind. Icicles clung to the windows, hanging in jagged pointed tips that looked like swords.

Elsie’s throat closed. She had run from here once and had survived. If she stepped back inside, would she survive a second time?

Chapter Two

Deke had managed to stay behind Elsie without her noticing for the two-hour drive, but her frantic escape worried him. She obviously was terrified of him, or somebody. And she was in trouble….

Just what kind? Trouble with the law? With a man?

Either one would complicate his job.

Then again, maybe she’d confide in him once she learned his real reason for coming. But what if she didn’t want to see her mother? What had her father told her about Deanna?

Night had fallen as she’d turned into a mile-long driveway that climbed a curvy dirt road. Snow swirled in a blinding haze, fogging his windows and creating crystals of ice that clung to the glass. Not wanting Elsie to see him, he parked in the alcove of a cluster of pines, then walked the rest of the way up the drive. Wind clawed at his face and hands, the sound of a loud growl in the woods nearby alerting him that the forest could be dangerous to some. The birds of prey who were his friends. And others….

As he drew nearer the mansion, his skin crawled. That was no ordinary house. There had been tall metal gates at the entrance, although they’d been open, and an eight-foot electric fence surrounded the property as if it had once been a prison. The gray stone structure resembled a mausoleum with turrets and a spiked chimney. There were five of them actually. A smaller stone garage was attached, a gardener’s shed beside it connected by a path of overgrown weeds fighting through the snow and ice.

The sign, Wildcat Manor, indicated it had been an orphanage at one time. It had obviously been deserted for years. The boxwoods and shrubs were misshapen, weeds draped the porch and sides and a fire had burned the bottom floor caking the stone with black soot, worsened by decay and age.

What the hell was Elsie Timmons doing here?

The realization that this might have once been her home hit him in the gut. Geez, the place looked more like a funeral home than a loving place for children. Had her father kidnapped her, then left her here for some reason? Because he hadn’t wanted her, or had something happened to him?

Deanna’s anguished face flashed in his mind. If her husband had been alive and left Elsie here because he didn’t want her, Deanna Simmons had pined away for her daughter while the girl must have felt so alone…. And if he’d died, why hadn’t someone contacted Deanna? Why hadn’t Elsie tried to reach her mother over the years?

Elsie walked up the steps, her slim figure tiny next to the massive oaks flanking the drive. He watched, mesmerized by her beauty. But her face was as pale as the white snow dotting the ground. And when she reached for the door, her entire body trembled and tears flowed down her cheeks.

As hard and tough as he’d always thought himself to be, his heart throbbed with emotion.

Emotions had no place in his job.

He would not allow himself to care for a woman, especially Elsie Timmons who had run from him at first glance. She had a mother waiting for her, and he had no part in her life. He would return to Arizona when he finished here. Alone.

Back to his birds of prey and the wilderness where he belonged.

Determined to complete the job, he stepped forward anyway. He had to get to the truth, pry into her secrets and convince her to return to Falcon Ridge. Then Deanna Timmons could find peace.

And he would be done with them and could go home.

ELSIE SHOULDN’T have come. She should have driven to a hotel for the night.

But she had to face her demons or she might never be whole again. Hadn’t the professors pounded that into their heads in psychology class?

Still, there were so many ghosts here, so much anguish….

The wind cut through her bones as she closed her eyes, willing her courage to surface.

You witnessed Hodges burn to death yourself. You even saw Hattie Mae standing over his grave, her head bent in sorrow. Or maybe it had been shame or relief.

Elsie had never understood how Hattie Mae had succumbed to her husband’s sick wishes and let the girls suffer his cruelties.

Hattie Mae is gone, too. The house is empty, and no one can hurt you.

Elsie braced herself for the squeak of the stone door, but she shivered as she stepped inside the dark entry. The scent of dust and mildew filled her nostrils, along with fear and death. Even ten years later, the pungent odor of Hodges’s flesh being charred rose with the dust motes.

Her footsteps sounded hollow on the marble floor, her erratic breathing rattling in the ominous quiet as she forced herself forward in search of a light. The electricity had probably been turned off. With the frigid temperatures, she’d freeze tonight.

No, there were the fireplaces and the lanterns.

Hattie Mae had always kept a dozen kerosene lanterns filled and ready for use when the power failed, and wood had been stacked in every room with a fireplace. As if on autopilot, she moved through the icy, cavernous living area to the kitchen. There she felt along the wall until she reached the pantry where she discovered several lanterns filled and ready for use. Matches were also stacked beside them as if Hattie Mae had been waiting on someone’s return.

Elsie barely stifled the urge to turn and run. But she had been running all her life.

No more.

She would face this place and slay her demons. In honor of all the girls whose hopes and dreams had died here, she’d turn it into a safe haven for troubled teens who could find hope for a better life.

A flick of the match and the lantern lit up. Determined to overcome her anxiety, she forced herself to examine the kitchen, then the rooms on the main floor. Only leftover discarded antiques that had once shone with polish and glory remained, still sitting in the same places she remembered. The fabrics were faded, the wood dusty, the walls a dreary pea green, the paintings water damaged. She would change all that, paint the rooms bright colors, get rid of the grim furnishings and replace them with more functional contemporary pieces, sturdy ones that would turn the dark, sinister interior into a welcoming home.

Exhausted from her drive, and the tension from her encounter with Deke Falcon, she checked the door locks, pausing in the hall as she noticed the padlock to the basement. The acrid smell…

She would not go down there. Not now. Maybe never.

The memories were too painful, the images too real, the anguish and shame too raw.

Her secrets had to remain hidden.

Shaking off her paranoia, she climbed the steps, grateful for the flickering light of the lantern as she studied the print carpet, the shadows from the corners, the long hallway that led to the dormlike rooms the girls had occupied.

The room where Hattie Mae and her husband slept had been on the main floor, off-limits.

The dorm wings had separated the girls by ages. She had slept in the east wing while the kids under ten had slept in the west. She didn’t think Hodges had ever ventured into the younger girls’ rooms, but couldn’t be sure.

Uncertain if she could sleep, she stopped at the private bedroom on the second floor. It had been reserved for the caretaker, who had seen after the girls and made certain they were tucked in at night, their doors locked securely. Elsie stepped inside, the scent of lavender and old lace greeting her. A hand-crocheted blanket covered the iron bed with cross-stitched pillow cases in blue and white. The dust that had been so evident in the house seemed minimal in here, the room clean and tidy. A white rocking chair sat beneath the window, and a full-length mirror occupied the opposite corner, complementing the antiques.

Outside, sleet slashed the roof. She built a small fire to ward off the chill, then looked out the window. Thick woods surrounded the place, trees bending and swaying with the force of the wind. The Smoky Mountains rose toward the sky like a fortress that offered a hiding place from the rest of the town.

The way Hodges had wanted it.

Back then, it had frightened her to be so far away from everyone else. Now, she sought comfort in the solitude. Keeping herself at a distance from others had saved her life in the past.

A shadow moved outside, and she tensed, studying the darkness. Was someone out in the woods watching her, or had it only been her imagination? The roar of an animal rent the air. What if the werecats were real?

No, she did not believe in the supernatural. The monsters she saw were human.

A noise inside startled her. Birds flapping in the attic? Or maybe raccoons or another trapped animal?

Seconds later, the sound of a baby crying trilled through the hollow walls. Elsie covered her ears. The sound would never cease. She heard it every night as she tried to fall asleep.

She’d run from this place to escape it, but she had never been able to. And she never would.

Because the baby had been hers. And it was lost forever.

DEKE STUDIED the orphanage, surprised that Elsie had gone inside and hadn’t returned to her car. Age and weather had grayed the exterior while cobwebs and years of fallen leaves and tree branches overflowed the gutters. Weeds had overtaken the yard, the grass brittle from the winter, the windows dark and coated in layers of dirt and grime. It was as dark as Hades inside.

He couldn’t imagine Elsie spending the night in the spooky place, but the fact that she had gone inside proved she wasn’t as skittish as he’d first thought. Or maybe she assumed this was one place no one would ever look for her.

He considered approaching her again, but decided to wait until morning. Let her think she’d escaped him. Let her get some rest. Meanwhile, he’d do a little research on Wildcat Manor.

Then he’d catch her off guard, early in the morning before she had a chance to leave again.

Still, he watched the house until after midnight, when it grew quiet and the small light flickered off. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he walked down the graveled drive back to his Range Rover, climbed in and followed the dirt road to the main highway. A battered sign pointed left, guiding him to the small town of Wildcat. He’d heard the South and Smoky Mountains were filled with spooky old legends. Would he find ghost stories in Wildcat?

Blinking to see through the fog, he circled the square until he found a small ten-room motel called Mountain Man’s Lodge. He grimaced at the dilapidated concrete building. There was probably a cozy bed-and-breakfast the tourists used, but he didn’t need frills, only answers. This truck-stop dive backed up to the woods, which beckoned him to visit for his nightly ritual.

Inside, an old-timer with gray hair, overalls and a hearing aid lifted his frail hand in a wave. “I’m Homer. You ain’t from around these parts, are you?”

He shook his head no. “I need a room for tonight.”

“Just passin’ through?”

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

Homer handed him a key to room nine, then looked him up and down. “You never been to Wildcat before?”

“No. What can you tell me about the town?”

The old man huffed. “Don’t many people that come through here ever come back.” A chortle rumbled from his thin chest. “Fact is, some of ’em never leave, either.”

“You mean they like it so much, they settle?” Deke asked.

“Not hardly.” Homer gestured out the window to a small white chapel at the foot of the hills. “See that cemetery? That’s where they end up. Damned just like the town.”

Deke frowned, wondering if the man’s comment had been a warning. Then again, Homer didn’t look dangerous.

“The devil lives in those woods along with wildcats as big as tigers, some of ’em half-human,” Homer continued. “Call ’em werecats. They feed off animals and humans.”

Homer must be senile. “Then why are you still here?”

He pointed out the window toward the hills. “Buried my wife, Bessie, a few years back. Cancer got her. We were together forty-five years. Can’t bear to leave her here alone.”

Deke frowned. He had no idea love and devotion like that existed anymore. Of course, his parents had weathered their own terrible storm and wound up back together. “I passed a place called Wildcat Manor coming in,” he said, putting his personal thoughts aside. “It used to be an orphanage?”

The man’s thin skin stretched over his bony jaws as he frowned. “Yep, but they closed it down ten years ago. Bunch of troublemakers lived there, didn’t associate with the townsfolk. Strange things went on in that manor. Stories about young girl runaways. The old man was crazy.”

“What happened to him?”

“Died in the fire that destroyed the basement of the building. The orphanage was disbanded then. Reckon his wife, Hattie Mae, was too scared of the hellions they put with her.” He wheezed a breath. “Rumors said one of the girls set the fire.”

“What happened to Hattie Mae?”

“She died a few weeks ago.”

“Did you know a woman…a girl actually, named Elsie Timmons? Was she one of the orphans?”

“Didn’t know any of them by name,” the man said. “Hodges never let the girls come into town, thought they’d stir up too much trouble with the decent young boys.” He scratched his chin. “To tell the truth, most of ’em were troubled, had been sent there by the law or cause their families didn’t want ’em. The town sure as hell didn’t.”

Anger sparked in Deke’s chest. How could the people in town have been so cruel to homeless kids? To Elsie?

And someone had wanted her—her mother. Only Elsie might never have known.

The tragedy of his own lost years with his dad rushed back, yet somehow Elsie’s situation seemed worse. He had to convince Elsie that her mother wanted to see her. He would go tomorrow.

His mind set, he accepted the key from Homer, retrieved his bag and let himself into the small motel room. The furnishings were minimal, the furniture old, the drapes and spread faded. He didn’t care.

He stepped outside, ignoring the brutal weather as he slipped into the dark wooded mountains. He’d see Elsie tomorrow. Find out why she was running. Tell her about Deanna.

Tonight he had to regroup. He couldn’t let Elsie’s sad story get to him. He was a loner. A falconer who needed no one. Who could not afford emotion. He had his own rituals. His own secrets.

Nature called his name, begging him to return to the wild where he belonged. He had to answer.

SOMEONE WAS IN Wildcat Manor.

A young woman. He had watched her enter from the safety of his woods, and wondered if she was a stranger or if she might be one of the lost girls who’d finally come home. He’d figured that some day one of them might return. Looking for Hattie Mae.

Wanting answers.

Or revenge.

The abject fury in the thought sent a burning pain through his hunched shoulders. Wind whipped through the thin layer of his jacket and clawed at his aching bones.

He had vowed to Hattie Mae that he would keep the secrets of Wildcat Manor safe. That no one would ever find out about her weakness. And if this girl had come to snoop around or expose them, he wouldn’t hesitate to stop her.

No matter the consequences.

Forcing himself to remain in the shadows of Hattie Mae’s life had been torture, yet she had always known he was there. That if she needed him, all she had to do was whisper his name. That she was never far from his mind or his watchful eye.

This girl would learn that she wasn’t welcome.

Now. It was almost dawn. Time of the awakening.

A smile slid onto his wind-parched face as his boots sank into the thick snow. Slipping through the back gate came easily—he had done it a thousand times. Even sought refuge from the cold behind those monumental stone walls. Tonight would be no different.

Clenching his jaw, he eased his way through the basement, his eyes automatically adjusting to the darkness, the sounds and smells of the dank space and the rituals that had been performed there rushing back as if time had stood still. He could still see the young girls pleading for their lives. The children who had been turned by the devil. The sinners who had to pay.

Hattie Mae watching in horror.

It was her fault, though. Hers and the bad children.

Pungent odors filled his nostrils, and warmth slowly seeped into his freezing body. He ascended the steps, remembering the night Howard Hodges had died. It had been a night just like this. Bitter cold. Complete darkness.

The wooden rungs squeaked, the sound of a mouse skittering beneath the furnace causing him to grin as he opened the door leading to the main hallway. Like a cavern, the house was completely void of light, but the scent of freshly lit kerosene wafted from above, and he realized the woman had found the lanterns. How had she known where they would be?

She had been here before. It was the logical explanation.

So which one of the pretty children had returned to the lair?

He slowly padded up the steps, his hand shaking as he focused on his plan, his mind spinning with the names of the orphans who’d stayed at Wildcat Manor, with the sounds of their cries and pleas, with the vulgar truth of their pasts. With their tempting eyes….

The dim glow of the lantern drew him closer to the bedroom, and he paused to listen, then heard sheets rustling and a whimpering sound as if a child had returned, not a woman. Pulling his cloak around his face and over his arms, he moved to the doorway and watched.

Her long dark hair was curly and lay across the pillow. So erotic. It had been a long damn time since he’d held a woman. She thrashed from side to side as if in the throes of a nightmare.

A chuckle threatened to erupt but he tamped it down. Didn’t she know that by coming here her nightmare had just begun? Like a voyeur, he hid in the shadows and watched her struggle for sleep, but no peace came. She muttered nonsensical panicked sounds, clutching the sheets with clenched fingers, perspiration trickling down her honey-lit skin.

Then he recognized her.

Elsie Timmons.

Rage and fear warred with the need to hold her. His hand trembled. His pulse quickened. Sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his back.

Suddenly, she jerked awake, eyes wide in the darkness, wild with confusion and fear. A shrill scream pierced the air when she saw him, and his instincts drove him forward. He pounced on the bed, covered her mouth with his hand, then shoved a pillow over her face. He desperately wanted to kill her. And he had to protect the secrets at Wildcat Manor.

She squirmed and clawed at his hands, but he chuckled.

No, killing her now would be too easy. She deserved to suffer.

Yes, he’d draw it out, torment her, make her feel the pain for a while.

Then he’d put an end to her….

Chapter Three

“Leave Wildcat Manor or die.”

Panic pumped through Elsie. The man’s acrid breath brushed her ear, and he loosened his grip on the pillow slightly. “Let the dead rest in peace,” he murmured. “Or you’ll be one of them.”

Icy fingers of fear tore up her spine, and she tried to wrench herself away. The years rolled back as if it had only been seconds since she’d run from Wildcat Manor.

The devil was in the house and he’d come to get her. Unspeakable horrors awaited.

He slid one hand down to her throat. His fingers dug into her skin, and Elsie summoned her fighter spirit. She’d found it the night she’d murdered Howard Hodges. And on the streets she’d practically become an animal.

She had to act now. A second longer, and he would cut off her windpipe completely.

Gathering her strength, she thrust her elbow up sharply, catching him in the ribs. He yelped and loosened his hold at the unexpected blow. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she spun around and stared at him, trying to see his face, but a long black cloak shrouded her view. He lurched forward, but she jabbed his eyes with her fingers, then rammed her fist into his belly. He bellowed in pain, grabbed her hair and yanked her head so hard pain rippled through her scalp. Then he flung her across the room. Like a beast, he shot toward her with a roar.

She scrambled away, reached for the fire poker and swung it sideways at his legs. The metal end hit him in the groin, and he doubled over. She jumped to her feet and ran from the room, down the steps, nearly tripping in her haste.

Outside, the wind howled and rain pounded the ground. She grabbed her purse and ran toward her car in her pajamas. Barefoot, the ice stung her feet, sharp pains knifing through her toes. Running as fast as she could, she jumped inside her car and locked the door. Her hands shook as she tried to insert the key. It jammed. Good grief, she had it upside down! She had to hurry!

The roar from the porch bled through the haze of fear, and she glanced up to see the creature running toward her. She cried out and tried the key again, hands trembling. But this time she got it in and the engine sparked to life.

He raced after her, his cloak billowing around him, but she gunned the engine and flew down the mountain.

DEKE JERKED AWAKE with a start. Something was wrong. He sensed it.

Rising quickly, he jerked on a pair of jeans, boots and a denim shirt, then grabbed his coat and headed into the wooded mountains. Were the birds of prey in danger? Were there werecats preying on others or was the old man senile?

No, Elsie was in trouble.

He’d felt an instant connection with her just as he did with some animals, as if his sixth sense told him they were now bonded.

He considered driving straight to the orphanage, but decided he’d scare her to death if he appeared at her door this early. He could go in on foot, though, and watch the house. Wait for the sun to break through the clouds. Then pay her a visit.

Snow and ice crunched beneath his feet as he hiked deep into the forest and climbed toward Wildcat Manor. Inhaling the fresh raw scent of pine and winter, he paused to check the area for any injured animals, but saw nothing. Yet he sensed the evil. The predators. That there might be wildcats hiding behind the trees, sneaking through the forest. Or hybrids—human animals…

The uncanny feeling that Elsie was in danger here in Wildcat hit him again, this time so strong he began to jog.

Nearby, animals scrounged for food in the bed of ice and dead leaves. The piercing eyes of a wild animal, maybe a bobcat or mountain lion, caused him to pause, and he searched the trees for predators. Was the old man at the motel right? Were there strange creatures in these woods? Was the devil really hiding behind the shadows of the caves and snow-laden trees?

He came to a ridge that jutted out overlooking the valley, giving him a clear view of Wildcat Manor, which was only a quarter mile above him. He stepped onto the precipice, sensing the hollow emptiness below and the churning tide of tension in the area. Secrets. Evil. The town of the damned.

He had to know what had happened here.

He scanned the mountain property housing Wildcat Manor and glimpsed a swish of black feathers flying along the top of the house. Vultures. They squawked, falling into predator mode, circling and spiraling downward toward the chimney as if they had just found fresh fodder.

His stomach clenched. Elsie. Years of honed instincts roared with the certainty that she was in trouble.

Adrenaline kicking in, he sprinted up the hill. Veering between the massive trees and brush was second nature, expecting the worst a nightmare that dogged him daily. What if something had happened to Elsie last night? Or this morning?

What if he’d misjudged her and she’d run again or someone had hurt her? What would he tell Deanna?

He increased his pace, climbing higher, higher, ignoring the biting cold and brisk wind. He was one with the birds.

The metallic taste of death sent a flood of bile to his throat. He had to hurry.

PANIC ROLLED THROUGH Elsie in waves. Where could she go now? What should she do?

The tremors intensified as she remembered the dark-cloaked attacker, but she quickly banished them. She was alive. She had fought him off.

And she was going to survive. No one was going to scare her away.

But she needed protection.

She’d buy a gun today, install dead bolts on the doors and get the power connected so she wouldn’t have to live in the darkness.

For now, she needed coffee to warm her and help her stop trembling. But she couldn’t go inside the town café wearing her pajamas. There was an all-night diner on the edge of town with a drive-through window. She headed toward it, slowing her pace as the rain intensified. Another car met her at the foot of the mountain, and she blinked, tensing as it approached. But the sedan flew by her, and veered onto another street that led to the river.

Her breathing finally steadied as she approached the diner. The temptation to go inside where she would be safe taunted her. Yet no one in this town had helped her ten years ago. Why would she think they might now? And if she told the police…

They might look into her story. Maybe her past. And she would go to jail for murder. Now that Hattie Mae had died, there was no one to verify that she was telling the truth. Admitting to killing Howard Hodges would be foolish.

Shivering at the thought of that horrible night, she rolled down the window at the drive-through, wishing she had a coat to hide her predicament.

A balding middle-aged man with a missing tooth narrowed his eyes at her momentarily, then grinned. “What can I do for you?”

She shuddered, then realized he probably assumed she was picking up coffee for her and an overnight lover. Let him think what he wanted. She’d long ago lost a good-girl’s reputation. Survival was all that mattered.

“A large coffee,” she said.

“Breakfast with that, ma’am?”

Her stomach was churning too badly to eat. But she’d need something later. In her haste to escape Deke Falcon, she hadn’t stopped to shop.

“Yes, a…a biscuit and sausage.

“Coming right up.”

She dug in her purse and handed him a twenty. With a toothless grin, he dropped the change into her hand, then shoved the food toward her.

She placed the paper bag on the seat beside her, taking a small sip of her coffee as she pulled away from the window. Still shaken, she parked in the corner and tried to calm herself before she headed back to Wildcat Manor.

She’d come too far to turn back now. Her destiny was here, she knew it.

Her breathing rattled in the quiet as she started back up the mountain a few minutes later. Dawn broke the sky, but dark storm clouds obliterated the light. When she pulled up to the manor, her heart clenched. Could she really face her demons?

Yes, she had to or she’d be hiding out the rest of her life. And she didn’t want to hide out. She wanted a life.

She took a deep breath, circled her hand around the mace in her purse, grabbed the food and coffee and climbed out, scanning the woods and property as she neared the porch. The forest seemed ominous, shadows clinging to the thick rows of trees, but she saw no one. Her heart racing, she slowly walked up the steps, listening for sounds that her attacker had returned.

Suddenly a man stepped from the shadows.

Deke Falcon. Tall. Imposing. His dark expression was hooded. But his eyes flared with questions.

He squared those broad shoulders, making him look even more intimidating. So he had followed her to Wildcat. Did he know about her past?

A shudder splintered through her.

Was he the man who’d attacked her?

“ELSIE?”

“What are you doing here?” she said, although her voice came out a mere whisper, fading in the wind.

“I have to talk to you.” He narrowed his eyes, wondering why in the hell she was outside, had been driving, in her pajamas. His gaze fell to her feet, and he grimaced. She had to be freezing. Her toes were red, the sharp sting of cold flushing her face, and she was trembling.

“Were you in my house earlier?”

He shook his head. “No, why do you ask?”

She shrugged, her teeth chattering, the coffee cup in her hand wavering.

“Come inside and get warmed up,” he said in a gruff voice. “I swear, I’m not here to hurt you.”

Her chin jerked up, a wariness there that cut him to the bone. Women had been scared of him before. His family history. His size, his brusque manner, his frown—he knew he looked cold, that women found him imposing. It had never bothered him before.

But Elsie looked like a small kitten, and he felt like an ogre knowing that he’d frightened her. What had happened to make her so distrustful?

“You followed me,” she said in an accusatory voice, making no attempt to go inside or come near him. “I want to know why.”

“I’ll explain when we get inside.” He removed his faded leather jacket, then lifted it in offering to her. She shook her head, and anger hit him.

“For God’s sake, Elsie, I’m not going to hurt you. I came here to help you.” His mouth clenched when she backed away. But he managed to catch her, then slid the coat around her trembling shoulders. “Come on. I refuse to stand out here and watch you freeze. Your feet are going to be frostbitten.”

Her mouth parted in a small strangled sound, but he ignored it and coaxed her up the steps and inside. The interior was dark, and she set the bag and coffee down, then grabbed a lantern. He took it from her and lit it.

“Is the power off?”

“I’ll have it connected today.”

“I’ll build a fire then.”

She hesitated, but he ignored her as he glanced around to find the den or parlor, whatever they called it in this monstrosity. Old dusty furniture, macabre paintings and cobwebs made the place feel dreary. And a collection of stuffed wildlife including a hawk, a mountain lion and a raccoon occupied the corner near the fireplace. Anger surged through him at the sight. He wondered how she’d stayed here the night before. Or ever.

A stack of wood by a fireplace in the room to the right drew his eyes, and he strode toward it. Within seconds, he’d built a fire. The warmth from the blaze lit the room, knocking off the worst of the bitter chill.

Elsie moved near the heat, keeping a safe distance, but shrugged off his coat. She quickly grabbed a blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around her, still hugging the coffee to her, but curling within it as if the blanket and fire offered her protection.

“Why were you out in your pajamas?” he asked.

“I…someone broke in and attacked me this morning,” she said in a faint whisper. “W-was it you?”

He swallowed hard. He’d never been good with women, but the fact that she thought he might have attacked her made his gut churn. Still, he lowered his voice, containing his emotions. “No, Elsie. I stayed at the inn down the road. Mountain Man’s Lodge. You can call and ask Homer if you want.” He cleared his throat, more alert. “Did he hurt you?”

“No…I’m okay.” She rubbed at her neck and his gaze fell to her pale skin. Bruises marked the edge of her collarbone and neck.

He gritted his jaw. “Did you call the police?”

“No.”

Panic tightened her face, and he frowned. He reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt. “Do you want me to call them?”

She stared down into her coffee. “No…please don’t.”

“Why not?”

She self-consciously tried to hide the bruise with her hand. “I just don’t trust them,” she whispered.

He gave her a clipped nod, although her fear of the police raised his suspicions. Why wouldn’t she report the attack? Was she in trouble with the cops?

“Would you tell me if you had broken in?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not a liar,” he said in a gruff voice. “And I’m going to search the house to make sure he isn’t still here.”

Her eyes widened when he bent over and retrieved his gun from the strap beneath his jeans. “What is that for?”

“Protection. I don’t intend to meet an intruder unarmed.” Ignoring the fear on her face, he stalked through the rooms, his senses on alert. First the drab kitchen, then the dining area, then the master suite. There was no evidence that Elsie had stayed in the room, making him curious. But the dark furnishings, lack of natural light and old-fashioned furnace reminded him of Falcon Ridge when he was growing up. Now, Rex had renovated the place and updated it, it had a homey feeling, not as daunting as the stone walls that their mother had hated.

Slowly he padded up the stairs, pausing every few steps to listen. He’d half expected Elsie to follow, but she must have decided she was safer in the den away from him, close to the front door so she could run if she needed to. The realization stung, but he ignored it. Why did he care what Elsie Timmons thought of him?

He veered to the left and found a wing composed of two large bedrooms that appeared to be dorm rooms for the orphans. Several small cots lined each pea green wall, the faded gold spreads and dusty furniture a sign that the place had been deserted for some time. The walls were scarred, a threadbare ratty yellow curtain hung askew, and a battered wooden toy box sat in one corner. An image of lonely children locked in the glum rooms brought a flash of sympathy. Had the toy chest ever held toys? Had the children celebrated Christmases and birthdays and gotten presents?

Had Elsie been one of those kids? He had to find out why she had come here….

He found a similar wing to the right, then a smaller private bedroom that actually felt more normal. The furniture was oak, not new, but not weathered like the children’s rooms. He scanned the corners before entering, then realized Elsie had slept in this smaller room. The unmade bed indicated she had left in a hurry.

Had the man attacked her here?

He stepped forward, and examined the rumpled bed-clothes, but saw nothing that might identify her attacker. A suitcase was open in the corner, and a small travel bag sat on the floor in the bathroom, but there was no intruder. Anxious to get back to her, he noticed a door to an attic, but it was locked on the outside, so the intruder couldn’t have entered through it. He also spotted a similar lock on the basement door on the main floor.

She glanced up at him when he entered, still wary, but at least she had stopped shivering. And she hadn’t run, either.

“I didn’t see anyone. Do you know how he got in?”

A curtain of her long curly hair fell across one cheek. “No.”

“Were the basement and attic doors locked last night?”

She shivered visibly. “Yes. They stay locked.”

He walked back to the fire and started to kneel in front of her, but she drew back her shoulders and he paused, keeping his distance. He had to win her trust if he was going to convince her to return to Falcon Ridge with him.

“Did you see what the man looked like?” he asked.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she sipped the coffee. “No, but he had the devil’s eyes,” she said in a low voice.

He frowned. “And you thought it was me?” Anger hardened his voice this time as the memory of his father being falsely accused of murder raced back.

She shrugged. “You are following me. I…still don’t know the reason.”

He heaved a breath. If she believed the tales about the devil living in the woods and thought he’d attacked her, maybe she wasn’t quite stable. How could he take her back to Falcon Ridge like this? Deanna Timmons would be devastated.

“Either tell me or get out,” she said, her voice stronger.

He nodded, considered a lie, but that wouldn’t be fair and would only prolong the process. He needed to know if she wanted to go home to see her mother. Then he could decide what to do.

“Your mother hired me to find you.”

Elsie gasped, a strained silence stretching between them. She’d almost gotten her trembling under control, but the cruelty of his statement triggered another onslaught. Her hand shook so hard she sloshed coffee over her fingers and had to set the cup down. His eyes pierced her. But he said nothing, simply waited.

Pain so raw and deep she felt as if she’d been sliced open tore through her. How many times had she told herself it didn’t matter that her mother had sent her away? That no one wanted her?

Elsie finally found her voice, although she hated the tears that laced it. “You’re lying,” she choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He arched a black eyebrow. “I’m not lying, Elsie. It’s true. She sent me to find you.”

The anger she’d relied on for years resurfaced to give her strength. “My mother is dead,” she snapped. “Now, get out of here.”

Chapter Four

Elsie stood, willing Deke Falcon to leave her in peace. Not to open doors to the past that held pain so intense she’d once thought she’d die from it.

But instead of moving, his black eyes pierced through her as if he could see all the way inside her soul. “Who told you that your mother was dead?” he asked in a low voice.

She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “My father. Now, I asked you to leave, Mr. Falcon.”

“It’s Deke, Elsie.” He tried to reach for her but she backed away. “And your mother is not dead. She’s very much alive and she wants to see you. She still lives in your old house in Tin City.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Now I know you’re lying. My mother sent me away years ago, back when my friend Hailey died.”

A long tense second followed. “Hailey is alive, too.” His voice dropped a decibel, almost apologetic as if he thought she’d already known. “Everyone thought she was dead, but she came back to Tin City a few months ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Elsie whispered. The memory of the night Hailey had disappeared hung like a dark cloud, still vivid in her mind. In spite of the fact that her mother had warned her to stay away from the Lyles, she had crawled into the attic to visit Hailey earlier that day. But she’d left when Hailey’s daddy had come home. Hailey’s father had been cruel and abusive, and the two girls had both been terrified of him. Elsie had felt guilty that she’d abandoned her friend.

“Hailey and her family were killed that night,” she said. “By the caretaker who lived next door. His name was…” She hesitated, then suddenly the name shot into her head. “Falcon…. Mr. Falcon….”

Harsh lines slashed his jaw as he scowled with anger. “Yes, Randolph Falcon, he was my father.”

Dear God, Deke Falcon’s father was the hatchet killer.

Fear bolted through her. Why had he come to her now?

She took a step backward, but her foot hit the hearth, and she nearly tripped. He grabbed her arms, but she wrenched away. “Please don’t hurt me. Just leave,” she pleaded.

“I told you, I’m not here to hurt you, just like my father didn’t hurt anyone,” he said between clenched teeth. “Your mother sent me to search for you. She wants to see you. The night Hailey’s parents were killed, your father took you away. Your mother has been looking for you ever since.”

Elsie staggered, unable to accept his declaration as true.

“It’s a long story, Elsie, and I’m not leaving here until you hear me out.”

She swallowed hard, trying to remember Deke from childhood. There had been three Falcon boys, all older than her, all mean as snakes. Their father raised falcons, and the school kids claimed the boys were strange, that they communed with wild animals.

Deke removed an envelope from his shirt pocket and pushed it toward her. “Look at these. They’re pictures of Hailey’s wedding. She married my brother, Rex. Your mother attended the ceremony.”

“Now I know you’re fabricating this story. If Hailey returned, she’d never marry the son of her family’s killer.”

Deke closed his eyes as if she had stabbed a knife in his chest. When he opened them again, pain had settled in the dark brown depths. “My father didn’t kill Hailey’s family. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Rex, Brack and I run a P.I. firm. Last year, we reopened my father’s case and when Hailey returned, they discovered that she’d repressed memories of the murder.”

“It turns out that Hailey’s father had a twin brother. He came to help Hailey, her mother and brother escape the abuse, but Hailey’s father showed up and killed the mother and son. Hailey ran into the woods. Everyone thought she had died, but she climbed into a small boat and a trucker found her later. She had lost her memory and wound up in foster care. When Hailey came back to Tin City, her father, who’d been hiding all these years, tried to kill her. My brother saved her.”

Hailey’s sweet face flashed into Elsie’s mind, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, my God. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Elsie. My father was cleared. Hailey and Rex married.” His solemn eyes spoke the truth.

Elsie’s head was spinning. Hailey was alive. Mr. Falcon hadn’t killed Hailey’s father.

If that were true, maybe Deke was telling her the truth about her mother.

“Look at the pictures, Elsie. The proof is there. Hailey and your mother are both alive, and they want very much to see you.”

Elsie stumbled backward and collapsed on the hearth, letting the heat from the fire warm her back as she opened the envelope. Inside, several photos fell into her lap. In the first one, she was small, about four or five years old, with a missing front tooth and a big smile. A memory crashed back, the day her mother had taken the photo. They’d gone shopping and had ice-cream sodas at the soda shop in town. Then her mother had bought her a charm bracelet. What had happened to it?

She jerked her head toward Deke. “Where did you get this?”

“Your mother gave it to me. She kept it all these years.” He hesitated, his voice gruff. “That’s the way she remembers you, Elsie, as the little girl she loved.”

A low sob caught in Elsie’s throat. “I…can’t believe this is happening, that all this time…”

Deke gestured toward the other photos. Two tall muscular men who resembled Deke flanked a gorgeous woman. “That’s Hailey now,” Deke said. “And my brothers, Rex and Brack, on Rex’s wedding day. Hailey planned to remodel her old house into an antique shop, but it burned down. They’re living at Falcon Ridge now, while they build a new house on her old property.”

Elsie’s mind raced to assimilate the information. Her best friend from years ago was really alive. She had survived her awful childhood. And now she looked so happy. Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she swiped them away, hating to reveal her emotions in front of Deke Falcon. He seemed so angry.

She thumbed through two more pictures of the wedding, until her gaze fell on a group shot. An older woman with graying hair and the warmest smile Elsie had ever seen stood in the center.

“That’s your mother, Deanna,” Deke said in a gruff voice.

Elsie pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. She’d recognized her immediately. “She’s…so beautiful.” Elsie’s heart stammered. Although she was smiling, the woman’s eyes held an emptiness, as well, as if she had experienced deep sadness in her life. The kind of loss that Elsie had felt in her own heart since her father had taken her away.

Could it possibly be true? Had her mother really wanted her?

Memories bombarded her. Memories she had stored away in the most distant corners of her mind because they had been so painful. She and her mother weaving pot holders out of yarn. The two of them baking a cake for her birthday. Her mother singing lullabies to her and tucking her into bed.

Her mother had loved her. Elsie had felt it back then.

A woman like that wouldn’t just turn her back on her child. Her gaze met Deke’s, and she saw the truth in his eyes. But her smile faded as bitter reality surfaced. Her father had lied to her all these years. He’d convinced her that she was responsible for the plague of death on Hailey’s family. That her mother hated her. And later when she’d grown up and had questioned him about her mother, he’d claimed her mother was dead.

Then Elsie had been even more lost. Even more confused and angry. And she’d gotten in trouble.

So much trouble that she’d blamed herself when her father had abandoned her to the horrors of Wildcat Manor.

DEKE HAD ALWAYS BEEN a sucker for a damsel in distress. And Elsie Timmons fit that picture perfectly. Instead of happy or excited, she appeared to be tormented by his news.

Of course, he understood her mixed reaction. He had been thrilled that his father was released, but the bitterness he felt from all the time he’d lost with him, for all the pain his family had endured, especially his mother, had lingered.

Elsie had obviously struggled. If her claims were true, her father had lied to her all her life. Where was he now?

She studied the pictures over and over again, then glanced back into the fire, dazed. Her eyes looked haunted, grief and sadness so embedded in the depths, that his gut clenched. She reminded him of the injured animals he and his brothers found in the wild. A butterfly maybe, or a wounded kitten.

“Your mother wants me to bring you back to see her,” he finally said.

Her gaze flew to his, questions and worry flashing.

“I’ll be glad to escort you.”

“No…I can’t go.”

His anger rose, defenses born from a lifetime of being looked at as a killer’s son surfacing. Was she still afraid of him?

“You can call her yourself.” Furious at himself for wanting to soothe her pain when she looked at him as a villain, he reached inside his wallet, removed his business card, then scribbled her mother’s name and number on it. “This is my P.I. firm, if you want to check it out, and there’s your mother’s number.”

Her chin quivered as she accepted the card. “She really wanted me all these years?”

The anguish in her voice overrode his anger, and he sat down beside her and gently touched her hand. A frisson of sexual awareness bolted through him, the sight of her eyes filled with tears nearly ripping him inside out. “Yes, Elsie. Call her. She’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

She clamped her teeth over her trembling lip. “I…can’t right now. I need time, time to think, to take all this in.”

He stroked her hand with his fingers, aching to pull her into his arms. A possessive, foreign feeling he didn’t understand filled him. “Where is your father, Elsie?”

Fear and something else—shame? anger?—settled across her face. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in years.”

“What happened after he took you from your mother?”

She glanced down at her hands, at his fingers as they moved slowly over hers, but she didn’t pull away. “We moved around a lot. Every town he took me to, we used another name.”

“Your mother hired another P.I. back then,” he said. “But your father managed to stay hidden.”

“He didn’t…couldn’t keep a job,” she said. “He blamed her for their failed marriage, for me.”

“What do you mean?”

She couldn’t explain the painful things he’d said to her. “I…I don’t think he wanted a child.”

“But he stole you from her,” Deke said in a low voice.

“To hurt her,” she said, raw pain tingeing her voice.

He muttered a curse, and she averted her gaze, rocking herself back and forth. “When was the last time you saw him?” Deke asked.

The shaking that had finally stopped racking her slender frame assaulted her again, and he ground his teeth to keep from putting his arms around her. He had to move slowly with Elsie, be gentle, approach her as he would a wounded hawk.

“When I was fourteen.”

He frowned. “What happened?”

She shook her heard, hunching her shoulders. “I…don’t want to talk about it.”

He gestured around the monstrous room. “He left you here at this orphanage, didn’t he?”

A slight nod of her head served as her reply. Then she stood and turned toward the fire, seemingly lost in the flames.

“I will take you back to your home,” he said. “When you see your mother, everything will be all right. Trust me, you’ll see.”

Elsie shook her head, tears spiking her long black lashes. “It’s too late,” she said in a haunted whisper. “I can’t go back now, Deke. Not ever.”

Raw anguish knifed through Elsie. In mere seconds, she’d memorized her mother’s features. Her smile. Her sad eyes. The changes in her face. The slight graying of her hair.

And with that, the memory of her voice had returned. The sound of her soft singing. Her spontaneous laughter. The smell of the gardenia lotion she used on her hands. The look of joy on her face when Elsie had drawn a picture for her or when she’d done something to please her mother.

“I’m so proud of you,” her mother would say. “You’re my little angel.”

But in the fire, Elsie saw Howard Hodges, his skin burning, his eyes screaming in pain, the flames eating his hair.

If her mother knew what Elsie had done, how she’d survived, the fact that she had murdered a man, she couldn’t smile or be proud of her. And she would never call her an angel.

Shame would fill her eyes. Disappointment. Maybe fury.

She would send Elsie away for sure this time. Elsie wouldn’t blame her.

She wasn’t the innocent, sweet little girl she had been when she’d lived at home or when she’d played hopscotch and baby dolls with Hailey. But heaven help her, she wanted to go home. Wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her.

She angled her face and saw Deke studying her. She had been afraid of him when she’d first met him. Yet in the last few minutes, he had shown her a tenderness she’d never known existed. A tenderness between a man and a woman.

He had made her want to fall into his arms and let him hold her. Yet his raw masculinity frightened her at the same time. How did she know if she could trust him?

He was only here doing a job. And it was sympathy in his eyes, not real emotion or caring. Or even attraction.

No, if she confided about her past, he would never want to be seen with her. He might even turn her over to the police.

He placed his hand on her arm, turned her to face him. “Elsie, talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your head. I swear, I’ll help you.”

She pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of his touch. But she couldn’t share her horrid secrets with anyone.

“I need some time to think.”

“To think about what?” His voice sounded gruff, slightly agitated. “Deanna has called me almost every day the last two weeks to see if I’ve found you. She’ll want to know what you look like, when I’m bringing you back.” His dark brows furrowed. “I hate to lie to her. She’s a sweet lady, and she’s suffered for a long time.”

Guilt weighed on Elsie’s shoulders. She almost wavered. Deke Falcon had no idea how much she wanted to see her mother. But she couldn’t return until she made something of herself. Until she faced her past and rectified her sins by building this center for kids. If she didn’t, she would always look at herself as an evil person.

And as a murderer.

Chapter Five

Frustration filled Deke. He’d expected Elsie to hear him out, then let him drive her back to see her mother and a happy reunion to ensue. Then his job would be done.

It was obvious that Elsie wanted to see her mother. She was plainly devastated to learn that her father had lied to her. So why would she choose to stay in this mausoleum where her father had left her? What kind of hold did the town have on her?

He had to dig deeper. Find out what had caused her to be so skittish. Why she had come back here. What she was hiding.

“Elsie, tell me why you really don’t want to go back to Falcon Ridge.” He started to reach for her again to assure her that everything would be all right. But her shoulders tensed and she drew away, his touch unwelcome.

“I…just can’t,” she whispered in a faint voice.

“Why not? Do you have obligations here in town? A job or a man in your life?”

“God, no,” she whispered.

“Then what?”

“My mother doesn’t know me now,” she rasped. “I’m…not the same little girl she once had.”

No. She was a stunning woman. Delicate and vulnerable with eyes that mesmerized him, and a soft pouty mouth that he desperately wanted to kiss. No, he wouldn’t do that.

But someone had attacked her, and he had to protect her for Deanna’s sake.

And for his own? He couldn’t deny that he’d instantly felt drawn to her. Maybe because he understood the pain of desertion.

Except that his father hadn’t deserted him of his own free will.

Still, at times, Deke had blamed his dad for not being around. For staying away so long. For not fighting harder to beat the conviction and get it overturned.

The silent realization shocked him. He shoved his hand through his hair, trying to make sense of his reaction. He’d never given voice to those irrational feelings before. And they were irrational—his father had been innocent. He’d tried his damnedest to free himself, but the truth hadn’t mattered.

Although when he’d been sentenced, his father had refused to see the boys. Deke had thought he didn’t love them anymore.

As an adult, he understood that his father had been trying to protect them. He hadn’t wanted his sons to see the meanness inside the prison. He’d thought the family would have a better chance of happiness without the turmoil of constant prison visits tainting their impressionable lives.

But Deke hadn’t understood at the time. He’d been devastated and hurt, had felt as if his father had abandoned them completely. And he’d hated hearing his mother cry at night, had felt so helpless….

But his parents love for each other had survived, and now the family had been reunited. Deanna and Elsie deserved the same.

“Elsie, your mother loves you,” he said gruffly. “Nothing that’s happened in the last twenty years can change that.”

Her gaze met his, and his gut clenched at the pure fear and pain darkening her eyes. She didn’t believe him.

“I…I have to do something here first,” she said in a raw whisper.

He stroked her arm, relieved when she didn’t pull away. “Then I’ll help you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t,” she said softly. “No one can.” Gathering the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she gestured toward the door. “Now please go, Mr. Falcon.”

“Deke.”

She sighed, a tired sound that yanked at his heart more. “Deke. Please, I need to be alone.”

“What do you want me to tell your mother?” he asked.

The question appeared to shake her barely controlled equilibrium. “Tell her that you can’t find her little girl, that she’s still lost.”

“I won’t do that,” he said in a rigid tone. “Her little girl is right here, and she needs her mother as much as her mother needs her.”

Fire flashed in her eyes. “What are you, Deke, some kind of therapist?”

He barked a laugh at her display of anger. “No, just someone who knows what it’s like to lose a parent as a child. All those years my father was falsely imprisoned…” His voice cracked slightly. “I…needed him. Even as a man, I still do. I’m not ashamed to admit that.”

Emotions glittered in her eyes like raindrops, ready to fall in the prelude of a violent storm.

“Please,” she said quietly. “Let me be alone now.”

He stared at her for a long moment, but finally gave a clipped nod. An injured bird needed time to rest. Time to heal. To learn to trust. So did Elsie. “My cell phone number is on the card I gave you. Call me if you need anything.” He hesitated. “Especially if someone tries to hurt you again.”

She traced her finger over the edge of the card. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Goodbye, Deke.”

Elsie had no idea who she was dealing with. Deke Falcon couldn’t be run off so easily. “I’m not leaving town, Elsie,” he said in a low voice. “Not until you’re ready to go with me.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he strode to the door, a smile creasing his mouth at the surprise on her face. Elsie Timmons might be stubborn, but she needed protection and help. And he was a man of his word.

Wherever she went, he would be right behind her.

AS SOON AS Deke Falcon left, Elsie locked the door behind him. The well of emotion she’d tried to bottle overflowed, tears running down her cheeks like a river.

She let herself cry it out. All the loneliness she’d lived with for so long had been needless. Being spirited from town to town, changing names, never making friends, being shut up with her father while he drank himself into a stupor. All for nothing.

How many nights had she lain in bed, unable to sleep, wondering why her mother didn’t want her? Why her father didn’t love her.

Then he had deserted her, too.

Rage unlike anything she’d ever known exploded inside her. How could he have been so cruel?

She doubled over, pain rocking through her. Her father had hurt her mother, destroyed all their lives because he’d been a selfish bastard. And all this time she had blamed her mother when her mother was suffering. She might have even thought that Elsie’s father had hurt her.

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