Haunted by the past…

Cold Creek is a place with a dark history, especially for the Lockwoods. Now adults, the three Lockwood sisters are still recovering from the events that led to the destruction of their family when they were children. Determined to move forward, Tess and Kate are making fresh starts, ready to put bad—even deadly—memories to rest and settle happily in the small but booming town. And they’re hoping their older sister, Charlene, can do the same.

Char is back in town seeking comfort as she figures out her next move. A social worker used to difficult situations, she soon runs afoul of some locals who think she’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. She’s certain something sinister is being covered up, and when she witnesses Matt Rowan being run off the road, she knows she’s right.

Working together, Matt and Char figure uncovering the truth will be dangerous, but living in Cold Creek won’t be safe for any of them until its secrets are revealed.

Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Karen Harper

“Harper, a master of suspense, keeps readers guessing about crime and love until the very end, while detailed descriptions of the Amish community and the Ohio countryside add to the enjoyment of this thrilling tale.”

—Booklist on Fall from Pride (starred review)

“Danger and romance find their way into Ohio Amish country in a lively and endearing first installment of the Amish Home Valley series.”

—Publishers Weekly on Fall from Pride

“Harper’s description of Lisa and Mitch fighting the river and braving the elements are so realistic the reader can almost feel the icy winds. A tale guaranteed to bring shivers to the spine, Down River will delight Harper’s current fans and earn her many more.”

—Booklist (starred review)

“Haunting suspense, tender romance and an evocative look at the complexities of Amish life—Dark Angel is simply riveting!”

—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author

“A compelling story…intricate and fascinating details of Amish life.”

—Tami Hoag, New York Times bestselling author, on Dark Road Home

“Well-researched and rich in detail… With its tantalizing buildup and well-developed characters, this offering is certain to earn Harper high marks.”

—Publishers Weekly on Dark Angel,

winner of the Mary Higgins Clark Award

Broken Bonds

Karen Harper

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Thanks as ever to my husband, Don, and to our good friends Dr. Roy and Mary Ann Manning.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

Author’s Note

Extract

Copyright

1

Even the look of the place scared her, but she was determined to go in. Three hunt hounds on the rickety porch came to attention, barking and growling, so she stayed in the truck until the front door opened and a thin woman came out. Charlene Lockwood rolled down her window and waved as if they were best of friends and she was just here for what the mountain folk called a “set down.” The ramshackle house was a far cry from the Navajo hogans she was used to and yet somehow it was the same situation—hungry, maybe abused kids, in impoverished and often rocky family situations.

With a gruff word, the woman Char assumed was Mrs. Elinor Hanson quieted the beagles. They sat, flicking their tails. Did the dogs mean she’d find Mr. Hanson here, too? It was wild turkey and squirrel hunting season, and she’d heard the bangs of shotguns echo off the rocks when she’d left the other cabin she’d called on today.

Hoping the dogs would stay put, she slowly opened the truck door and climbed down. She slung her big purse over her shoulder and started uphill from the narrow pull-off on the road. She had to bite back a smile. She’d misheard on the phone when she’d been asked to see this family in Hanson Holler. Char had thought the visit on behalf of the Childhood Education in Appalachia Project was to Handsome Hollow, but this place was a far cry from that.

The old house with its tilted and patched roof sat back in a played-out coal seam under the hunched shoulders of the mountain. No old sofa on the porch this time, but a stovepipe stuck out a window, and there was an outhouse. The cold weather and her nerves made her want to use it, but that would be no way to start here. How was she ever going to make a dent in the real mountain here—the mountain of kids who seldom got to school where they would be given “breakfast, lunch and learnin’,” as her last client had called it.

“How do!” Mrs. Hanson called out. “Welcome to the holler.”

“How do! Mrs. Hanson. I’m Charlene Lockwood, the county agent visiting the homes of children who would be helped by good attendance in school. Is your daughter, Penny, here today?”

“Right sure is. Need her for chores with the new baby and all. She’s afixin’ dinner. Make yourself to home, come in and set a spell, get you some squirrel stew.”

Char knew not to turn that down, though she’d had her fill of the same with her previous client. It was a chewy, gamey meat that not only stuck to your ribs, but seemed to gnaw at them. But out West near the Navajo reservation, if you were offered mutton and fry bread, you ate it. Here it was squirrel and biscuits. If only things hadn’t gone so bad out West. Despite the fact she’d been born in Cold Creek, had two sisters who had welcomed her and given her shelter, even the fact she had found some employment in the four months she’d been back, she still didn’t feel at home.

Despite the wood-burning stove, it was chilly in the house, but Char knew it would be rude to keep her coat on. The place looked to be a main room with two small bedrooms out the back. Elinor Hanson bounced her one-year-old son, Franklin, on her lap while Simon, a toddler, played with pots and pans on a blanket spread on the floor. Elinor said Crayton, age four, was out with his pa. Penny, a mere wisp of a blonde girl, aged ten, who looked to be about six, served them at a table while they made small talk.

“My husband Henry’s out with his brother Braxton from down the way,” Elinor explained. “Brax is eighteen, gonna be a marine if’n he gets his test lettin’ him pass high school, whatever test that is.”

“Yes, it’s called a GED.”

“Anyhow, Henry’s learnin’ him huntin’ with bow and arrow, so wants to learn Crayton about huntin’, too. Bow huntin’ cheaper than buyin’ bullets. Dogs don’t like it none ’cause he leaves them to home. They spook game when it’s with a bow, ’cause you got to get closer than with a gun. Henry, he’s between jobs right now. Worked at the gas station, got let go.”

Char realized the woman was trying to talk about everything except her truant daughter, so she tried to steer the conversation away from Henry and hunting. “I’m sorry to hear that. But we’d sure like to see Penny in school this winter.”

Penny’s blue eyes seemed to fill her thin, freckled face, but she kept looking at her mother for answers when Char tried to question her. Even letting Penny take a small gift from her array of them hadn’t made the child more talkative. With a shy “Thank you,” the girl chose crayons, though Char wasn’t sure there was any paper to be had. So far, no one had picked the jump ropes. Char realized one thing they had in the hills was rope of their own. She watched Penny fingering the colorful crayons through the cutout in the front of the box, but she didn’t open it.

“Mrs. Hanson, you know a school bus comes up as far as Coyote Rock.” Char tried again. “So if someone could get Penny down the road that far, she’d be taken right to school and brought back to the same spot, safe and sound.”

Penny looked hopeful. Elinor sighed. “I’ll have to ask her pa, but beholden to you for the offer. He don’t trust no one works for the gov’ment. Don’t like handouts, not our way, don’t care what outsiders say.”

“I understand that, Mrs. Hanson. And I don’t work for the federal government but the State of Ohio. I’m living in Cold Creek now, was born there, too.”

“So you din’t leave like so many want out?”

“Yes, for a while. I grew up in Michigan, then left there to go to school and lived out West near an Indian reservation.”

“Now that will be somethin’ to tell your pa, won’t it, Penny? He says the real ones used to live in these parts ’fore the coal mines played out.”

It was at least an hour before they rose from the table and headed toward the door with Elinor leading the way and Penny trailing. Char felt she’d built a bridge, but Henry Hanson could be a barrier big as this mountain. Out West, she’d learned the hard way not to buck “the menfolk,” though she’d love to challenge them for not valuing their children and wives.

Before they followed Elinor outside, Penny tugged on Char’s jacket. “I’d like to go down to school,” she whispered. “Wish’t you could fetch me.”

“I wish I could, too, Penny. I’ll be sure to tell the school you’d like to go.”

“But if Pa says no...”

Elinor’s voice was loud as they joined her on the plank porch. “This view beats all, though, don’t it?”

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Char agreed as they gazed down the stone gap through the mist toward the foothills that sheltered the small town of Cold Creek below. It was so different from the mesas and canyons in New Mexico, but it was a stunning sight. “And I hope I’ll be seeing this view and both of you again soon. Please tell Mr. Hanson about the time the bus will be waiting below, and thank you both for the delicious stew and biscuits.” She shook hands with both of them, though she yearned to hug little Penny to her.

Char waved as she climbed into her truck that had survived dusty, corduroy western roads and a long, sad drive back to Ohio when her bold Dads Don’t Drink antialcohol campaign had met with stiff opposition from some of the local fathers and tribal elders. It had made her wary of men who browbeat or physically beat their women and children.

Despite being back in her truck, Char jolted when she heard a gun go off nearby. Hadn’t Elinor said her husband was out today with a crossbow and not a gun? She gripped the steering wheel and stiffened, waiting for another shot. Nothing. She waved again and carefully headed down the narrow twisting road.

* * *

Matt Rowan never drove up into the mountains this far, but he was determined to deliver the cash, groceries and winter coats to Woody McKitrick’s house here on Pinecrest Mountain. He had been a big help as a handyman and head groundskeeper in the Lake Azure area. Woody had liked to, as he put it, “talk turkey,” and Matt, raised in the “big city” of Cincinnati, had learned a lot about hill country from him. Matt could picture his friend, especially in the coonskin cap he wore in cold weather, looking like old Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett as he went about his work.

The usually sure-footed sixty-year-old had fallen to his death from a cliff above the Lake Azure grounds. With winter coming, Matt wanted to help Woody’s family get through the winter. His son had returned from the war in Iraq with problems and didn’t hold down a job.

In the Lake Azure community where Matt lived, winter meant some hunting in the hills but mostly ice-skating parties on the lake, alpine and cross-country skiing followed by hot brandy before a roaring fire or soaking in a heated spa in the lodge. Up in the hills, winter meant hardship. And these old coal roads were so hard they were rattling the company truck and his teeth.

He was still rattled anyway from the argument he’d had on the phone yesterday with his senior partner for the Lake Azure community, Royce Flemming. Matt’s dad and Royce had been lifelong friends, and Matt was honored to be his junior partner and manager of the upscale community perched on the scenic edge-of-Appalachia town of Cold Creek. When his dad died, he’d felt even closer to Royce, but recently they were at odds over the older man’s fast push to drill for oil and gas in the area.

Fracking, they called it, though the actual name was hydraulic fracturing since the process involved forcibly injecting water, sand and chemicals to fracture deep shale, to release the precious products trapped inside. Just in the past few months, drilling here had gone bonkers. There was already a big break between the haves and the have-nots in this area. Now the issue of lucrative fracking contracts going to only a few select people was causing rifts among the locals. Fracking brought in business, but the truck drivers and rig men caused problems in the once-pristine area.

Money talked, but why couldn’t Royce see his lucrative new business could hurt the human and natural environment of his big Lake Azure investment? So far, the disagreement hadn’t permanently damaged his close relationship with Royce, even when he’d declined the opportunity to invest in Royce’s new fracking company earlier this year.

Matt swore under his breath as he made another hairpin turn around the mountain, still heading up. Most of the heights around Cold Creek were foothills, but these inclines were serious stuff. The old 1970s pavement was bumpy and broken. The road was one-lane with pull-offs every couple of hundred yards so cars could pass, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to do that. He remembered his dad driving the family up Pike’s Peak out West when he was a kid. They got so scared of the drop-offs and the lofty view straight down that they’d turned around at the top and headed right back to civilization.

“Damn!” he muttered when he made another turn and saw a pickup coming at him. It was a rickety affair with the front bumper loose and bouncing—tied on with wire or twine. He could see two men in the cab and a mule sticking its head out of the bed of the pickup as if it were enjoying the view. The rule was that the vehicle heading up was the one to back down to the pull-off, so that was him.

He slowly inched his way backward, using the rearview mirror, his side mirrors and craning around to look out the rear window. He wasn’t used to driving this truck. Why hadn’t he sent someone on staff up here with this stuff? His bailiwick was his office in the lodge, talking to new owners and investors, and doing community PR. He couldn’t fathom how difficult this drive would be in rain or snow.

At least the next pull-off spot was not right on the edge of a cliff. It had a sign that read Falls County School Bus Stop. Tall, scrawny pines and a few oaks had clawed their roots into the rock here and leaned out from the pull-off. He carefully backed into it, making sure his rear wheels were at least six feet from the edge. The other truck passed him with a honk and a wave and a hee-haw from the mule. For a moment, he just sat there, breathing hard, his heart pounding.

He reminded himself why he was determined to deliver these gifts to Woody’s family personally. The guy had the guts to take a stand against the invasion of fracking in the area. The old man—sixty didn’t sound old, but mountain men looked old at that age—had led peaceful protestors with hand-printed signs. They’d insisted the fracturing of the bedrock to suck out oil and gas would break up not only the rock but the families and the town. Matt knew Woody was right. He should have taken a stand, too, but he also saw the good things about fracking, like the money rolling in and, hopefully, less dependency on foreign oil. He was above all a businessman like his dad and Royce, wasn’t he?

Sitting on the edge of the pull-off, he was tempted to head back down and send someone else up with the things for Woody’s family. But he wanted them to know their family patriarch had not been forgotten, that he meant more than a few nice words at his funeral and a couple of hundred dollars in an envelope. He wanted Woody’s widow to know how much the man had meant to him.

“Okay, up we go,” he whispered just as another truck appeared, this time heading up. It was another old pickup, but the guy in it was driving too fast. The truck didn’t have a front license plate, but then up here, maybe there were no real rules. Matt took a closer look. Was he nuts or was the driver wearing a ski mask? The truck didn’t take the turn but headed toward him.

There was nothing he could do but yell and turn his wheels. The truck slowed but bumped into the front of his truck, pushing him back. Matt laid on the horn, held to the steering wheel, tried to get his truck in Drive, but the other truck edged it backward....

The front of Matt’s truck tilted upward, throwing him back against the seat. He was going over! His stomach went into free fall though the truck hadn’t yet. His back bumper pressed into the trees. The truck stopped, shuddered and hung hundreds of feet over the rocks below.

2

As she made the next sharp turn, Char gasped. A white truck with Lake Azure, Inc. painted on its side was tipped nearly off the cliff, right where the school bus stopped for the kids who lived above. She’d heard a horn honk long and loud a few minutes earlier. Maybe the truck missed the last turn and spun out, since its rear, not its front, was dangling over the edge, propped up by two trees. No other vehicle was nearby to help.

She put her emergency blinkers on and pulled as close to the cliff face as she could. She jumped down from her truck and ran across the road toward the truck. A man was inside!

“What should I do?” she shouted, her voice shrill. It sounded like a stupid question. She had to get the man out of his truck before it crashed over the edge.

The bitter, strong wind ripped at her hair and jacket. What if a blast of air tipped him off? Or maybe even if he moved. She’d swear the two tree trunks that held his truck were shaking as hard as she was.

She could hear the engine was still running. The driver opened an automatic window.

“A guy in a truck shoved me off,” he shouted. “Meant to. I don’t have any traction. I’m afraid if I shift my weight or open a door to jump out, I’ll send it over.”

The fact someone had done this on purpose stunned her. What was going on? If her cell phone worked up here, she’d call her brother-in-law, the county sheriff, for help, but she was on her own. It wouldn’t help to go back up for help from Elinor and Penny.

“Don’t move until I get something you can hang on to if the truck goes. I have some jump ropes I can tie together. Those trees are shaky.”

“I’m shaky. Hurry!”

She ran to her truck and knotted together the three jump ropes she had, tying square knots because she knew they would hold. But she’d never be able to balance the man’s weight if the truck went over the edge.

“I’ve got ropes here, but I’ll have to tie the end to a tree. I don’t dare drive close enough to you to tie it to my truck. It would never stretch that far.”

She knotted it around the trunk of a pine tree that looked sturdy enough, though that almost took the length of one rope. This wasn’t going to work.

A grinding sound, then a crunch reverberated as the truck seemed to jerk once then settled closer to the cliff edge.

“Now or never!” he shouted and opened his door fast.

Desperate, Char wrapped one end of the rope around her wrist and reached toward the man as he lunged at her. A scraping sound bruised the air. The man was tall. She clutched the collar of his leather jacket, scratching his neck. He grabbed her. She held him tight as the earth seemed to break, and the truck disappeared followed by a crunching, crashing sound below.

They were sprawled on the ground, near the edge, clinging to each other. He was big and strong but shaking. He sat up and unwound the tight rope from Char’s wrist to free her hand which was going white.

“Sorry—I couldn’t help,” she told him as they gaped at the patch of sky where the truck had been.

“You did,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and blinking back tears. “You did. You saved my life, thank God, because someone wants me dead.”

* * *

Char drove Matthew Rowan down the mountain road toward town. He explained he was not a worker, but part owner and manager of the Lake Azure properties. His hair was cut short, as if he were a military man. It was raven-black, though it was dusted with roadside dust. And he was really good-looking, despite cuts and scrapes and dirt on that solid-jawed face. His jeans, shirt and leather jacket were scraped, a mess, but she, too, looked as if she’d been rolling in the dirt.

“So, you’re a Lockwood,” he said when she introduced herself. “The third sister, the one who lived out West.”

“Everyone knows the Lockwoods because they keep getting their names in the news,” she admitted as she carefully, slowly navigated another turn. “Tess years ago when she was kidnapped, and Kate lately with all the chaos at the Adena burial mound.”

“At least you know where to find the sheriff’s office, since you’re related to him,” he said, flexing his arms and legs as if checking to see if he could move everything. “A good guy, Gabe McCord. I...I still can’t believe someone would do that to me.”

“So you don’t know why or who pushed your truck? Was he after you specifically, do you think, or just anybody he came across? Like, do you have any enemies?” She realized how upset she was for him. Her sense of right and wrong—and the temper she had to keep under wraps—flared again just as it had when she’d had problems dealing with some of the people out West. She’d also felt angry when she’d returned to Cold Creek and learned about the horrible religious nut con man, who had her cousins in that cult out by the old insane asylum. But Bright Star Monson got her blood boiling in a far different way from this.

“With all those questions, are you sure you’re not working for the sheriff?” he asked. She was surprised he could kid her right now, and it calmed her. He turned to face her again, watching her closely, making her blush under his intense scrutiny. “I’d better save all that for him. Listen, I’m not thinking straight. Now that we’re down low enough, I’ve got to call my office, tell them what happened, that I’m okay. My cell phone went down in the truck, so could I borrow yours?”

“Sure—of course,” she said, pulling over on a straight stretch of road and putting the truck in Park. “It’s in my purse, behind my seat. It doesn’t work farther up in the mountains, but I think we’re low enough now.”

He reached down and lifted the bag onto her lap. “Heavy.”

“That purse is more or less my office. I keep everything in there—my files on home visits, presents for children. Here,” she said, handing him the phone, then hefting her bag onto the backseat.

She drove again as he called his office and talked to someone called Jen, explaining what had happened. The woman was upset, and her voice was so loud that Char could hear most of what she said. “Yes, I’m all right,” he said. “I’m heading for the sheriff’s office to report it.”

“But he meant to do it?” the woman shrilled. “To kill you? But who, Matt? I can’t believe it. Thank heavens you got out.”

“Let’s just say a Good Samaritan came along and saved me. I’ll explain later.”

At that, he turned to look at Char. Tears in his eyes, he pressed his lips tight together and nodded at her. The moment was somehow intimate, as if he had embraced her. Char cleared her throat and turned back to the road.

“Yeah,” Matt told Jen, to answer another question. “You’d better call Royce, let him know, though he’s due in tomorrow. And check the insurance papers on the truck. No, I’ll call you later or be back when I can. Calm down. I’m okay. Right. Bye.

“Thanks,” he told Char, ending the call and putting the phone in the storage space between the two seats. “For the phone and for everything. I appreciate your being much calmer than she is.”

She was tempted to ask if Jen was his assistant or—or what. He didn’t have a ring on his left hand, but you never knew. And “Good Samaritan” or not, it was none of her business. Then, past the next curve downward, something caught her eye.

“Oh! Look, down there! I think that’s your truck in that rocky ravine.”

They had looked over the edge from the crash site, but the jutting rocks and trees below had hidden the wreck. He unfastened his seat belt and leaned toward her to look. “You’re right,” he said, so close his breath fanned the loose strands of hair by her right earlobe. “Can you pull over, so I can look down? I hope that didn’t start a fire. Just got it filled up with gas.”

She stopped the truck, and they both got out to peer over the rim of rock. He reached for her wrist, then her hand, whether to keep her safe or himself sane, she wasn’t sure. When they saw the battered truck below, she gasped, and he swore under his breath. A fire had blackened the foliage around it like an ink spill. A crooked finger of dark smoke pointed upward from the wreck.

“Thank God it didn’t hit a house, or start a rock slide,” he said, his voice rough. “Maybe the guy who pushed it off was just looking for trouble with anyone, but what if someone wants me gone—down there in that?”

He shuddered and gripped her wrist harder, until she pulled him gently away from the precipice. “No, it’s not the vehicle I always drive,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself. “My senior partner and his driver sometimes use it, but they’re out of town.”

“Then maybe he was the target. I mean, isn’t he the one helping to finance all the fracking around Cold Creek? Not everyone’s in favor of that.”

“Don’t I know.”

Char tried to remember things he said so that she could tell Gabe if Matt didn’t recall everything later. He did have a scrape on the side of his head, though he seemed clear-minded. “Sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” she murmured, almost to herself, as they climbed back in her truck.

“Glad you didn’t, or you could have been hurt. What a way to meet.”

There was another strange, silent moment between them as she put the truck in gear and they started down again. “There is a Navajo saying, ‘If you save someone’s life, you feel responsible for them.’ But I didn’t really save yours. You got out on your own and—”

“But I had you to give me courage and to hold on to.”

To have and to hold from this day forward. The words to the wedding vows danced through Char’s head, since she’d been helping her sister Kate memorize them for her December wedding.

They both jolted when a black truck drove toward them just where the one-lane road became two near the foot of the mountain. It was fracking rig workers heading up, two in the cab and four in the truck bed. They tossed beer cans out into the bushes as they roared past. Some folks around here were afraid these people would hurt the natural environment, corrupt the rural way of life. But even before the fracking hit here, Char knew some locals resented the so-called rich folk who built luxury getaway homes or weekend places at Lake Azure. As the face man for that ritzy area, Matt Rowan could have a lot of enemies, and black pickup trucks were thick as thieves around here.

“The guys in the back of that truck are wearing black stocking caps,” Matt said, craning around to look back at them. “I’m pretty sure my attacker wore a ski mask, but it could have been almost anyone who nearly sent me over the edge. And I’m going to find out who and why if it’s the last thing I do.”

Char wished he hadn’t put it that way. Back on curves and hilly roads instead of hairpin turns on peaks, she drove them toward town.

* * *

“Again, I can’t thank you enough,” Matt told her as he got out of her truck and hurried around to open her door in the small parking lot next to the sheriff’s office on Main Street in Cold Creek.

He was feeling worse—a sudden limp caused by a leg cramp, sore muscles all over, maybe from holding himself so tense as well as his leap for life. He was also mad as hell, but he was trying to control his fury around this woman, not take things out on her.

He figured that Charlene Lockwood was probably midtwenties to his midthirties. She was so petite next to his six-foot height. Slender, almost delicate looking, and yet she seemed as sturdy as they come, despite hands gripping the steering wheel all the way down the mountain. She emanated determination, but seemed strangely vulnerable, which, as bad as he felt, hit him like a sledgehammer. She was a looker in a saucy way with her pert nose, blue eyes and full mouth framed by sun-streaked windblown brown hair. She had a heart-shaped face and, obviously, a big heart. And no ring on her left hand, though he had more important things to worry about right now.

Sheriff McCabe came barreling out the front door of the police station as they started toward it. “Hey, Char,” he called. “Thought you were visiting mountain kids truant from school. Listen, Tess and I don’t want you to move out, really. Oh, Matt. Things okay out at Lake Azure? You look— Are you okay, Matt? Are you and Char here together?”

“Gabe, someone shoved his truck off a cliff on Pinecrest Mountain where I was visiting a family. I found him just before it went over.”

Matt looked at Char. He suddenly felt dizzy. Yeah, that had happened to him. He was not someone else watching it from afar. “I’d better sit down,” he said, taking Char’s arm because that seemed natural now. “Sheriff, maybe she can come in with me—to tell at least the part she saw. I like to think I would rescue a fair maiden in distress, but it was the other way around.”

Matt realized he was staring only at Char, too long, too close. She stared back at him. The sheriff cleared his throat.

“Let’s go inside. You just caught me in time, but what I had to do can wait. How about I talk to you first, Matt, and then interview Char for her perspective on all this after? Do you need a doctor?”

“Not right now. I need answers.”

“Let’s work on that,” the sheriff said as he put his hand on Matt’s shoulder and opened the door he’d just exited. “Are you claiming it wasn’t an accident, but intentional? Did you get a license plate, a description of the driver?”

Matt shook his head, then looked back to make sure Char had come in, too. She was talking to the receptionist, sinking into a chair.

“It had to be a planned attack,” he told the sheriff. “I’m not certain if I was the target or my senior partner, since I was in the company truck he and his driver sometimes use when he’s in town and visits his fracking sites. I’ve never been so shocked or scared in all my life—which I almost lost.”

He took a last glance at Char down the hall, just as she looked up at him and their eyes met again. A terrible day, he thought, but something good had come from it, too.

3

Matt turned down Sheriff McCabe’s offer of a doctor but did take him up on using the restroom down the hall. He leaned stiff-armed on the basin and stared at himself in the mirror. A mess. But blessed. Blessed to be alive. And, despite the terrible situation, to have met the only woman he’d felt an instant attraction to for a long time. And to have looked like this. Oh, hell, worse than that. Some local lunatic might be out to kill him and he didn’t have a clue who.

He washed up with water and the metal dispenser’s liquid soap and dried his face and hands with paper towels. If that idiot in the black pickup with the half-hidden face had been after him, why? He must have been followed. Maybe he was being watched.

Matt walked into the sheriff’s office and sat down in a chair across the cluttered desk from Sheriff McCord. “You still okay?” the sheriff asked. “Here, I got you some coffee and, sorry if that doughnut’s stale, but thought you might need to eat something.”

“What about Charlene? Is she okay?”

“As you may know, I’m married to her younger sister, and let me tell you, the Lockwood girls are tough cookies. Char said she was glad she was there for you.”

“She’s been great, though I can tell she doesn’t like driving up there. She lived out West, but not in the mountains, I guess.”

“She was a social worker near the Navajo Reservation for several years, an advocate for juveniles and families in the outlying areas. She left recently, still misses it, I think, though she’s glad to be back with her sisters and helping kids here. At first, she worked for my wife, Tess, at her day care center. She also helped her other sister, Kate, with her archaeological dig at Mason Mound, sifting soil for ancient Adena bone fragments.”

“So, she lives with you and Tess but is moving out?”

Gabe nodded and took a swig of his coffee. “Charlene Lockwood’s stubborn as they come. We tried to talk her out of it but she’s got a cabin rented, not so far from your area.”

Matt sat up straighter. That sounded good. He didn’t want to seem too pushy. He owed her dinner at the very least. Probably he owed her his life. If she hadn’t arrived and tried to help him, he might not have tried to get out when he did.

“So,” Gabe said, pulling out a piece of paper and taking a pen off his desk, “tell me from the beginning what happened today up on Pinecrest, any and every detail. Then, as soon as my deputy runs you home, he and I will find the site of the wreck and take a good look at it. I’ll interview Char later.”

“Char spotted the wreck. I ought to hire her as a bodyguard— Just kidding,” he added when Gabe’s eyebrows shot up. “You evidently think she’s the one who needs that at her new cabin.”

Gabe leveled a long look at him. “With all the outsiders in town, right. She’s very idealistic, out to help anyone, especially poor kids.”

Maybe he had overstepped, Matt thought. He was a far cry from poor kids, and he hadn’t felt idealistic in years. Nose to grindstone, eye on the stock market and building up a big investment in the people and places of Lake Azure. He supposed, especially compared to the locals around here, he was a driven workaholic.

“Okay. Let me tell you what happened from the beginning,” he said, and figured he’d start with the fact he was taking things he’d bought for Woody McKitrick’s family, things that were now so much ash at the bottom of a ravine where he could have ended up the same way.

* * *

Char was disappointed when Gabe called his receptionist in the main office to say that she should go home and he’d get her story tonight. She wanted to see how Matt was doing now, maybe drive him to Lake Azure. But Gabe was going to take Matt and Jace Miller, his deputy, to see the burned wreck of the Lake Azure truck, then he’d see that Matt got home. Matt had insisted on going to the collision and crash site, too.

She headed to Gabe and Tess’s big, old, recently renovated house with its newly built preschool child care center addition in front. Char had stayed first with her older sister, Kate, at her fiancé Grant Mason’s large home, but the Adena dig team—college students from Ohio State University—were in and out so much it was like an open house.

But now, she’d found an inexpensive three-room rental log house, built as a hunting cabin, ironically located not too far from where Matt must live since it overlooked the Lake Azure area. The place had a great view, not to mention a fireplace, two space heaters, electricity and indoor plumbing. The man who owned it had suffered a heart attack and wouldn’t be hunting—or just retreating to his man cave, as his wife had put it—until next year. Char didn’t know much about him except that he owned the large racetrack outside of Columbus but had a big holiday home near Lake Azure.

“Tess, I’m home! It’s just me. Gabe will be home late again!” she called as she went in the back kitchen door. The fourteen kids at the growing day care would have all left by now.

“Are you all right?” Tess cried, rushing into the kitchen. “Gabe called and said you’d rescued Matt Rowan from a burning truck up on Pinecrest!”

“It wasn’t burning until after he got out of it and it went over the cliff.”

“Oh, that’s terrible! Thank God you were there. You look like you’ve been through the mill. Take a rest and wash up.”

Tess gave Char a hug and helped her take her jacket off as if she were one of the preschoolers. The two of them had their zeal for protecting kids in common, despite their different personalities and looks. They were the same height at five foot six and both had blue eyes, but Tess had blond, chin-length hair while Char’s was brown with natural gold highlights. Tess looked a lot more frail and had been through real-life traumas that made Char’s being threatened and forced to leave her dream job out West seem minor. As for character traits, Char figured some people thought she was too outgoing, maybe pushy. She had to admit she was a lot more stubborn than Tess, and mouthier, too, but what was right was right and she intended to say so.

While Char went to the bathroom, Tess fixed them both tea. Char had seen she had the slow cooker going with some sort of dinner in it—hopefully not a third helping of squirrel stew, but she knew better. Since Tess and Gabe’s honeymoon in France, her younger sister had been serving French cuisine, which seemed pretty odd around here, though maybe not over at Lake Azure on the other side of town. After a quick change of clothes, Char joined her sister in the large kitchen.

“Char, are you listening? I said, please don’t feel you have to move out. Gabe and I don’t think that cabin in the woods is such a good idea, especially with the roustabout types pouring in here to work the fracking rigs and drive the water and oil trucks.”

“You’ve both been great, but this is the first year of your marriage and Gabe doesn’t need a sister-in-law guest on cozy nights this winter. Besides, the cabin’s not really in the woods. I’ll drive you up to see it. My cell phone works there, and it’s furnished, though I’ll take my own bedding and linens. I’m not far off the road and can be down to town in ten minutes—and the view is of Lake Azure, no less.”

“All right, all right,” Tess said, gripping her mug. “I know not to argue when your mind’s made up, but I think you should at least learn to shoot a gun for protection. Gabe could teach you.”

“If I lived out West in peace without one, I can do the same here. There are enough people around with guns. I’m having the locks changed on the doors, and the windows have latches. It’s almost a luxury cabin, so don’t worry.”

“You know I do—still. But with Gabe, I’m doing better, really. I knew his job was part of the marriage. It’s just I worry about some of my students, especially if they come from broken homes. I’m hardly attracting the Lake Azure kids who have nannies or stay-at-home moms who carpool their kids to school or even send the older ones to private schools.”

“And you worry about your older sisters,” Char added as she reached out to squeeze Tess’s shoulder. Tess still bore the psychological scars of having been abducted as a child. Char’s thoughts flew to little Penny up on the mountain with her box of crayons clutched in her hand and her plea to be “fetched” for school.

“You know,” Tess said, “we’ve still got an hour of daylight left, and, like you said, Gabe will be late. How about I pour our tea into insulated cups and we drive up to look at your rental?”

“I don’t have a key yet.”

“We’ll just peek in the windows. Before Gabe called about what happened to you, I was going to drive to the Hear Ye cult gate and ask to see Gracie. She didn’t look good when I saw her at the Saturday Harvest Market, and I barely got a word in with her since they guard each other so tight. But maybe we can both try to see her tomorrow and you can show me the cabin now—unless you’re too shook up from rescuing a man in distress. Matt’s handsome, isn’t he?”

“That was the least of my thoughts. He was more dinged up than I looked. And scared, though he hid it well. By the way, the second stop I had today was not Handsome Hollow like I told you at breakfast but Hanson Hollow, named for the several generations of the Hanson family living there. It’s amazing the Appalachian project even has a record of them and their kids since they live way up there.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. I’ve seen Matthew Rowan. He gave a sort of PR talk at church after his association paid for the town’s Labor Day picnic this year. What did you think of him?”

“I thought a lot of him—but I don’t want to think more of him, okay? Stop looking at me that way and never mind matchmaking. If you want to see the cabin, how about you drive? My hands ache from gripping the steering wheel today.”

“Which won’t stop you one bit from visiting mountain cabins or living in one,” Tess said with a sigh as she jumped up to pour their tea into travel cups. “Oh, no, not loves-a-challenge, champion-of-the-poor Charlene Lockwood.”

“Sister of the terrific but terrible Tess Lockwood McCabe and Dr. Kathryn, dig-up-those-old-bodies, Lockwood. Well, wish I hadn’t put it quite like that. Someone did try to kill Matt Rowan today—if they weren’t trying to murder his senior partner who sometimes uses that truck. Matt said he has a driver. Can you imagine? A chauffeur in a truck in Cold Creek? You know, Royce Flemming is not only the money man behind Lake Azure but, the Environmental Expansion Company, alias fracking for dollars.”

“Speaking of which, I guess you and Matt Rowan would be like oil and water in your lifestyles and goals, at least. But they say opposites attract.”

Char heaved a huge sigh. “I didn’t think of any of that, just that he needed help. I liked him, and he kind of ended up helping me, too, because he was so grateful, that’s all. I’ve met enough controlling, overly aggressive men in my day, and if people think that makes a man masculine, they’re crazy.”

“That’s all with him, then? The end? Okay, okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut. If I know you, you’ll overlook what a hunk—a wealthy one—he is and just try to hit him up for a donation to the Appalachian Children Poverty fund. I’ll lock up and let’s go.”

* * *

The sheriff, Deputy Jace Miller and Matt stared at the shattered, burned-out hulk of the Lake Azure pickup. Matt shuddered to think of his incinerated, broken bones inside. The whole area reeked of gasoline and burned leaves and grass. At least the fire had not spread farther than the thirty-foot-wide blackened circle.

“I’ll have Jace run you home, and I’ll go have a look at the spot you got hit,” Gabe said, craning his neck to look up at the rocky ridge of Pinecrest Mountain glaring down at them. “Never know but there might be some trace of the other truck up there. I’ll ask around about who the guys with the mule in their truck could have been, too, in case they passed your attacker heading up toward you.”

“The pull-off’s easy to find,” Matt said. “It’s marked for a bus stop, but I’m thinking anywhere along the road that...that killer would have found me, he’d have tried to send me over the edge. I must have been followed.”

“Or, you told someone where you were going, so you didn’t have to be followed close,” Jace Miller put in. “I guess you and Gabe covered that.”

“Yeah, we did,” Matt said. “The people in my office knew where I was going, and I’d sent word to Woody McKitrick’s family that I’d stop by during the day, but not when.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe this. I still can’t believe it happened.”

“Brad Mason never drove this truck, did he?” Gabe asked. “As your partner Flemming’s front man in the area, a lot of people have it in for him, too. He’s been worried about his safety. He’ll be part of my family when Char’s sister Kate marries Brad’s brother, Grant Mason, next month.”

“I’m pretty sure he drives a red pickup—easy to spot, kind of flashy for around here, even for Lake Azure, where he’s bought a small condo. You know, Royce wanted me to take that job, but I turned him down. Maybe some people against the fracking don’t know that.”

“As for the place your truck went over, I know that spot. That pull-off is near a formation called Coyote Rock, though I don’t think it looks much like a coyote. Must have been one spotted up there. Jace, when we get another deputy in, it’ll be a lot easier to patrol around here. Could use at least two more deputies, but at least we’re getting one soon. Keeping an eye on moonshining, pot patches and meth labs in the hills near town’s bad enough, but these mountains are a whole other world, not to mention the fracking.”

Matt nodded. “Char and I saw some rig workers heading up Pinecrest in a black pickup, looking pretty happy, tossing beer cans out. New outsiders like that have taken some of the pressure off us Lake Azure people being the intruders.”

“It’s getting better,” Gabe said. “Live and let live—but not kill someone by shoving them off a cliff so it looks like an accident, even suicide.”

“Suicide?”

“Sorry to bring that up. When my father was county sheriff, he had a bad case where a guy drove off near Coyote Rock—meant to kill himself, but took his wife’s life in the crash, too. Murder-suicide.”

A chill shot up Matt’s spine as the sheriff started to pace off the circumference of the burned circle. Matt stood his ground, just staring at the charred wreck. In a way he’d been charred today, too, by meeting Char Lockwood. Crazy thought but she’d heated him up. He’d been burned a couple of years ago, and that made him gun-shy about getting serious with a woman, especially when he kept himself so busy. The women he met in Cold Creek were either married clients, or were locals he just didn’t have much in common with—and then there was Ginger Green, who was after him as well as every other man in sight, so she was hardly his type. He wasn’t looking for a quick hit, quick goodbye woman.

“Too bad you lost the stuff you’d bought for the McKitricks,” Jace was saying. “Bet they could have used it. Gabe, didn’t you say that they were on Char’s list of families to visit over a truant student?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Gabe said, distracted as he wrote in a little notebook.

So, Matt thought, maybe he and Char could go together to visit the McKitricks when he replaced the food and clothes he was going to give them. Not that he wanted to go back up the mountain, but he wasn’t going to let this impact his freedom or his duty.

“Hey,” Gabe shouted, from across the wreck. “Someone’s been here gawking already. Footprints in the ash. I didn’t see any on the side where you’re standing.”

Matt and Jace watched as he approached the truck and glanced inside. “And there’s an unburned piece of paper in here with something written on it.”

Jace went over to the wreck. Though the burned, acrid smell was seeping into the pit of Matt’s stomach, making him feel sick, curiosity got him. Walking in Jace’s footprints, he went over to the wreck and peered in the front passenger-side window, too.

A piece of white paper was lying on the blackened front seat. He could see a drawing of a skull and crossbones, like on an old pirate flag. Under that were big, black printed letters.

YOUR FIRED!

4

“Well, I admit it is kind of quaint looking—in a pioneer way,” Tess said as she drove into the narrow, short driveway of the hunting cabin.

For some reason, Char’s mind flashed back to driving up to a big, modern hogan on a washboard road for the meeting where the elders and her boss had asked her to leave. But that had been set among yucca, sagebrush and pinyon pines instead of maples, oaks and tall white pines. Even the bedrock here was different; the rocks were gray, beige or black, not the yellow, brown and red rocks she’d grown used to out West.

“And, Ms. Worrywart, the logs have good chinking—insulation,” Char assured her as they got out of the day care van. “And, see—there’s a carport so I won’t have to scrape frost off car windows in the morning.”

The sun was setting, gilding the clouds with colors from lavender to pink to fiery orange, which made the view even more beautiful. They peered in all the windows, walking around the small log building.

“I like the stone fireplace and all the wood inside,” Tess said. “And there’s a leather couch and two upholstered chairs. The front room’s a pretty good size, but that bedroom and bath are small.”

“Which suits me just fine. It’s got a stand-up shower, so I’ll miss soaking in the tub, but that’s a small price to pay.”

“Did they say you could use that pile of firewood?”

“Yes, and they’re not charging me for water. The water heater takes up part of the closet space, but does a guy hunting or drinking with his buddies need room for clothes?”

“Did you get the idea his wife ever comes up here?”

“It’s a man’s world—until now. I did get the idea, though, that his marriage isn’t that happy. I feel sorry for her.”

“Oh, Char, you can’t solve all the world’s problems, you know.”

“I can try. I’ll bet it’s great to sit out here on this covered porch on pretty days to see the sun rise or set. Let me show you the view of the valley and lake below. If we could just erase those luxury condos and homes and that big party house down in the valley, it would look really pristine.”

“They call it a lodge. It makes the one at the state park where Gabe and I got married seem like a doll’s house. It does blend in with the area,” she said, pointing, “like the Lake Azure houses do. Wonder which one is Matt Rowan’s. What a great view here!”

Char remembered Elinor Hanson saying the same earlier today. It seemed so long ago she’d been up on the mountain, but only moments ago she’d seen Matt sitting scared to move in his truck and then it going over....

“You okay?” Tess asked. “You kind of flinched. Did you see something below?”

“No. Just the breeze is cold. Winter’s coming.”

“So then spring can’t be far behind, right?” Tess said, throwing her arm over Char’s shoulders. They stood leaning together for a moment, looking below at the long lake that gave the area its name. As the clouds passed overhead, the water seemed to change color, one minute azure, the next almost like jade or amethyst. Smoke trailed from chimneys on a few of the shingle or slate roofs of the houses below, though some were hidden under pines. The large Y-shaped lodge with its green velvet grass golf course carved out of the hills looked lonely this late.

Funny, but Char had one of those rare moments when she wished she had a man she loved to share something with and not only a friend or a sister.

“I just thought of something sad,” Tess whispered, pulling away and hugging herself.

“About that woman who lives down there? The one who’s still trying to get her daughter back from her estranged husband in South America?”

“No. Just that it must have been near here, down that next ridge maybe, where that groundskeeper fell to his death, because they found his body on the golf course a couple of weeks ago—remember?”

Char gasped. “That’s the man whose family Matt was going to visit up on Pinecrest. At least, if he ended up on the golf course, he didn’t fall from right here. He must have been over there a little ways to fall straight down, though that doesn’t look like a place someone would trip.” Again she fought to banish the memory of Matt’s truck pitching over the side into nothing but air.

“Gabe said the death was accidental but weird because he was a mountain man, sure-footed, knew the area, all of that. But up on these paths and ridges, anything can happen, so you’ve got to be really careful. And if this is a hunting cabin, there may be shooters in these woods and—”

“And I’ll be careful,” Char said, cutting off any more dire warnings. She had to always be on guard to stay the optimist to Tess’s worries and levelheaded to their sister Kate’s brilliant but scary what-if theorizing. “I’ll be away during the day anyway, and people would be crazy to try to hunt anywhere around here at night.”

But, Char had to admit, some folks were crazy around here. Starting with someone who would kidnap kids like Tess or push someone’s truck over the side with them in it. And maybe, live out alone in a cabin, almost on the edge of a cliff.

* * *

“You didn’t need to fly in early,” Matt told Royce Flemming when he arrived at Matt’s door just after dark. He’d just taken a shower and was considering going over to the lodge to get some hot food and try to relax in the spa and sauna.

“I was coming late tomorrow, anyway,” Royce said as he stepped in.

Royce and his assistant, Orlando—his jack-of-all-trades including chauffeur and bodyguard—flew in a company plane to Columbus from wherever he was working. Royce kept a car there. Orlando drove while Royce did paperwork in the backseat—always busy. Now he turned to wave to Orlando, who backed the black sedan out of the driveway.

“He wanted to come in to tell you he’s glad you’re all right, but I told him I’d let you know and he could see you later. He’ll be at the lodge in a guest room down the hall from my suite if I need him.” When Matt closed the door behind them, Royce gripped his shoulders. “At least you’re in one piece.” He hugged Matt stiffly, set him back and headed into the living room.

As ever, the seventy-year-old was elegantly put together in his Italian leather jacket over a striped shirt and jeans which actually looked pressed. Royce’s silver hair seemed sculpted, and his perpetual tan set off his green eyes. Married and divorced three times—and paying triple alimony—Royce had not always been a successful entrepreneur. He’d made his ever-expanding fortune in upscale housing projects, including Lake Azure and another in the Poconos, and also headed up the Environmental Expansion Company, the EEC, which oversaw the majority of fracking for gas and oil in this area. Though he was a trim, fairly short man, Royce Flemming left huge footprints wherever he went.

As the sun set, they sat at the bar in the living area with its views of hills and the lake. Matt’s three-bedroom house was the medium size for the development and blended beautifully into the natural setting, one of the prerequisites for a Lake Azure home. It was perched on a cul-de-sac that overlooked the lodge and lake with its man-made sand beach, boathouse and dock.

“The usual?” Matt asked. “I could use a stiff one myself after today.”

Royce nodded. “Can you believe I’m dating a woman who likes bourbon and branch? But yeah, thanks. Make it my usual—a double.”

“Bourbon and branch? Isn’t that what evil oilman J. R. Ewing used to drink on Dallas?”

“Yeah, that’s right. So, Jennifer called from the office and said it was my truck that went over.”

Matt heaved a huge sigh and handed Royce his Jim Beam on the rocks. “Yeah, the Azure Lake truck Orlando usually drives when the black car seems a bit too much or you’re headed to rough ground.”

“I hear you, partner. That’s why I liked that truck around here. Believe me, I don’t always need Orlando hanging on—or maybe I do now.”

They clinked glasses and sat facing each other across the mahogany bar. Moments like this made Matt really miss his father. As close as he felt personally and professionally to this man who had been his dad’s best friend and who did not have children of his own, it was never quite the same. He admired Royce tremendously, but there was always an edge to the man that couldn’t be smoothed away.

“Okay, I’ll just say it,” Royce said. “The hillbilly jerk who tried to shove you off might have been after me.” It was a statement, not a question, but then Royce always seemed to have all the answers.

“Possibly. But why you, the moneyman, the salvation of this area in people’s eyes?”

“In some people’s eyes. If he was after Brad Mason, my right-hand guy in charge of the fracking contracts, the would-be killer is nearsighted as hell. Brad’s always in that fire-engine red, look-at-me truck, which is good advertising, though I know he’s got fans and haters out there.”

“Woody drove the white truck once in a while but he’s dead, and you’re always driven by Orlando, so that leaves me as the target. But if the guy in that truck wanted me to die, why?”

“Yeah. Matt, you know Woody was a loose cannon. I’m sorry he had that freak accident, but it kept me from firing him for printing up those homemade signs and picketing this place. It shook up the residents here. He should have picketed one of the drilling sites, not here.”

“I hire and fire here, and I would not have fired him.”

“Okay, he was a good worker. I overanalyze everything.”

“Me, too, now. Even after hashing all this out with the sheriff, his deputy and Charlene Lockwood, I still can’t figure—”

“Lockwood’s the woman who just happened to come along in time?”

“What do you mean ‘just happened to’?”

“I checked into her. A bleeding heart social worker who could, possibly should, profit from helping you get out of that truck in time. Maybe it was pushed just so far so it wouldn’t go over, then here she comes to help. I hear she visits families up in the hills and could no doubt use a hefty reward for her Appalachian project. And, like you said, who has the money around here? I do, you do—and people know that.”

“You mean like she set it up?” Matt’s voice rose in tone and volume. “Royce, now you’re over the edge.”

“Calm down. Anything’s possible, that’s all. You’ve got to look at all angles.”

“She asked for nothing.”

“Good. Great. But I wish you’d called me first, not gone to the sheriff. We don’t need negative PR or people speculating. The Chillicothe newspaper will pick it up from the police report, or worse yet, good old gossip will get going around here. We’ve worked damn hard to get along with the townies who think people don’t belong even if they’ve been here for a hundred years. We could have cleaned this up by donating to Ms. Lockwood’s cause and doing an investigation ourselves—which I plan to do. We don’t need the sheriff breathing down our necks.”

Matt slammed his glass down on the bar, spilling some of his drink. “Last time I checked, attempted murder is a criminal offense. Of course I went to the sheriff. He needs to look into it!”

“Okay, didn’t mean to take it out on you after all you’ve been through today. I suppose he had to know, but let’s try to keep it from getting tied to bad local feelings about this ‘ritzy’ area, as I heard one guy uptown put it. And I don’t want it tied to the fracking. Hopefully, money talks louder than the environmental do-gooders yakking about the quality of life around here from our drilling.” He rolled his eyes. “You know, that crazy Bright Star told his disciples that blasting into the bedrock like that could cause earthquakes, one sign for the end of the world—that is, until I bought out his old property for big bucks. Now he’s on my side, and that’s what we need, people around here on our side, not trying to shove us off cliffs.”

“Royce, we can’t sweep what happened today under the PR rug. It might have been some drunk guy, but I think it meant something, and since it was my life on the line, I’m not letting it go. And I mean to thank Char Lockwood and cooperate with the sheriff, too.”

“Sure. Sure, I understand. Too late not to. Hey, let’s get something to eat at the lodge, then I’ve got my fracking superintendent meeting me there later to report on how the drilling’s going. EEC is helping the down-and-outs here with some very nice drilling rights packages, bringing up the whole area, that’s my goal. The locals already owe us big thanks for the influx of jobs and money and revitalizing the stores downtown. Even newcomer Charlene Lockwood must know we’re doing great and are making good profits.”

Still annoyed that Royce was suspicious of Char’s motives, Matt went upstairs to turn out lights. Darkness had descended. As he glimpsed his own reflected image in the large glass window of his loft bedroom before snapping off the light, a thought hit him. If the man in the truck who tried to shove him off the cliff meant for him to die, why did he cover his face? If he just meant to scare him, warn him—set him up somehow, maybe for Charlene Lockwood to come along—he would have covered his face.

No, Royce, wily as he was, had to be wrong about Char. So what if she probably had ties to hill folk, maybe some who owed her favors? Royce just went wild with things his front man and informant, Brad Mason, found out about locals here, so he knew what contracts to offer for what amount where he wanted to drill, including working with that weird cult leader, Bright Star Monson. Talk about a guy with hidden ulterior motives. Royce had said the cult leader was a mind-control guru even he could learn from—which reminded Matt again that, even working for and with a dynamo like Royce, he still needed to be his own man.

He had another unsettling thought. He closed his vertical blinds. If someone was watching or stalking him, they could see right in, and this house was full of large windows.

“Hey,” Royce said as Matt hurried down the freestanding staircase and went to the front hall closet to get a jacket. “I’m telling you again, you need a good woman in your life, my man. Now Veronica, this new lady I’m seeing, has a younger sister who’s a knockout, and we’d like to fix you up with her.”

“The fixing up I need right now is to figure out who almost killed me and why. And to make sure no one tries it again.”

* * *

“So one thing I haven’t mentioned,” Gabe told Tess and Char after questioning Char about what she’d seen up on the mountain, followed by a late dinner. “In Matt’s burned-out truck, we found a pristine piece of paper that had a crude skull and crossbones on it and read, ‘Your fired.’” He spelled it out for them. “I’m sending it to my friend Vic Reingold at the Bureau of Criminal Identification and Investigation to see if we can get prints or DNA off it, but that may take a while.”

“Bad spelling, so maybe an uneducated writer,” Char observed. “Sad to say, there are plenty of those around here. What do you think it means?”

“Don’t know,” Gabe said. “Nothing about this whole thing makes sense. Despite the fact he usually has a driver, I’m tempted to theorize the attacker thought it was Royce Flemming in that truck. He’s got as many enemies as friends around here, making some folks rich while their neighbor lives in worse poverty, compared to the bonanza next door. It’s splitting not only shale rock layers but friends and families when some cash in on the fracking and some don’t. Fracking breaks a lot of family bonds. Some have their quiet roads ruined by big semis and their views wrecked by rigs and concrete. Outsiders, blasting, worries about the purity of well water most depend on here.”

“Listen, you two,” Char said. “Let’s try to just forget all that for a while. I’ll get the table cleaned up, get things in the dishwasher, then go up to finish my meager packing. You two need time alone without the cares of the world. Go on now. The day care kids will be here all too soon in the morning, and Gabe will be off trying to find the guy or the truck that hit Matt.”

Gabe gave her a tight grin. “Thanks, Char. We’ll take you up on the clean the kitchen offer, and I’ll worry about all that tomorrow. Mrs. McCabe, please come with me. You are under arrest and in my personal care,” he said, and took Tess’s hand to pull her to her feet.

Char sighed as they left the kitchen. It suddenly seemed very empty. She was glad she wouldn’t be intruding on their hospitality and kindness much longer, though they’d never made her feel that way. But as soon as she got the keys to the cabin, she’d be on her own in a beautiful spot. Really, really on her own.

5

“Ah, the keys to the kingdom!” Char exulted to Tess the next morning as her new landlady drove away from Tess’s house after giving her the key to the rental cabin.

“But you promised you’d get the locks changed,” Tess reminded her as she continued arranging the small beanbag chairs in a circle for the children that were due to be dropped off soon. Gabe had already headed for the office. Char had overheard him tell Tess he was going to interview Royce Flemming as soon as he showed up in town again.

“I said I’d get the locks changed, and I will,” Char promised. “I’ll get moved in and do my visits with kids closer to town just for today instead of climbing every mountain again, fording every stream, following every rainbow...”

“The Sound of Music, my favorite musical. I teach the kids the ‘Do-Re-Mi,’ song, you know. Oh, here’s the first drop-off. No,” she said, looking out the window. “I don’t know that car. Char, it’s Matt Rowan! Here, you go to the door, and I’ll keep straightening up. Don’t mind me.”

Char almost scolded Tess for her excitement, but her own heartbeat accelerated. She felt herself blushing. Waiting inside the door for him to ring the bell or knock, she fanned her face.

He rang the bell. She counted to five, and before Tess could run in to see what was wrong, opened the door. He was taller than she recalled and looked so good—that is, no dirt, no messed-up hair, no apparent bruises.

“Matt. Come in. How are you doing after—after everything?”

He brought in a blast of crisp, fresh air with him. The first car with day care kids pulled up right behind him, but Char got him inside before the storm of little squealers hit. “Hi, Miss Tess. Where’s Miss Char?” she heard as she led Matt down the hall.

“Bad timing, I guess,” he said. “Do you help out here?”

“I have but, actually, just if I have free time from my new job. And I’m moving out today.”

She indicated they should go into the living room while Tess herded the children into the large play area. “Do you have kids?” Char asked, then felt maybe she’d overstepped by asking about that right away. Might as well ask if he was married. “Tess loves to teach kids, but I prefer standing up for their rights,” she rushed on as they sat side by side on the sofa. “I’m not quite as much hands-on as she is.” She bent one leg up on the seat and turned toward him. He tilted inward, too, throwing one arm across the back of the sofa, almost touching her shoulder.

“To answer your question, no kids. No wife, either.”

“Oh. Well, I’m so glad you are looking good—okay, I mean.” She felt like a babbling idiot. Usually, she was in control with women or men.

“I’d be happy to take a load up to your new place. Or I could get a Lake Azure truck—one that’s not totaled—to deliver some of your things. Actually, I came to ask something. First of all, I’d like to take you to dinner, and second, I heard from Gabe and Jace that you need to visit the McKitricks up on Pinecrest. I do, too. Yesterday I was taking clothes and food up to the family of Woody McKitrick, our head groundskeeper, who died tragically in a fall.” As he shook his head, she realized he was thinking he could have, too.

“I heard. I’m sorry. I knew that would make my visit there harder. Jemmie McKitrick, the six-year-old I’m concerned about, is Woody’s grandson. I knew he’d be missing his grandpa and, evidently, the family’s major breadwinner. The boy’s father was wounded in Iraq and doesn’t work, gets minimal checks to support the grandmother, mother and Jemmie.”

“Yes, Sam, Woody’s son, has post-traumatic stress disorder. Woody said that Sam wants to go out hunting the enemy all the time, and he’s disappeared in the middle of the night once in a while. They’ve had him treated at a VA hospital, but he’s still not—not right. So I thought it might work out that, as soon as I replace the things I’d bought for them, which I plan to do today, we could call on them together. At least the money I had to help get them through the winter was in my jacket pocket so that wasn’t lost in the fire.”

“Sure, we could go together. I’d be trying to help them in a different way, getting Sam and his wife Mandy Lee, to agree that Jemmie should attend school.”

“Tomorrow then? We could talk about it tonight at dinner if you’d let me take you.”

“That would be great. As for your helping me move things, I’ve never had my own place since I graduated from college, so I travel light. It won’t be furniture or anything like that, but we could put some boxes in your trunk.” She knew everything would fit in hers, but she didn’t want to turn him down on this—on anything, and that scared her.

“Are you sure you want to live alone? In a cabin, even a nice one? I know the owner and the place. It’s kind of isolated.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t you start sounding like my sister. I lived on the edge of the Navajo Reservation, and now I’ll be living on the edge of Appalachia. But thanks for your offer because Tess is busy for a while—obviously.” She smiled as the sound of children singing the alphabet floated to them. “And, of course, Gabe’s going to be extra busy. He said he’s going to interview your partner, Royce Flemming, next time he comes to town. You just winced. What did I say?”

“He’s here. And not too happy to have that sort of publicity for Lake Azure.”

“I can understand that. Oh, can dinner be a bit late tonight? When Tess is done today, we’re going to visit the Hear Ye cult to see our cousins Lee and Grace Lockwood, and their two kids, who live there.”

“Really?” he said, frowning. “I don’t know anyone who lives there.”

“Anyone who’s crazy enough to live there, you mean. The entire area is like one big haunted ghost town. We’re really worried about all of them. I guess it’s an old joke around here, but it sure seems right that the cult has moved onto the old lunatic asylum grounds since their other place was bought with big bucks for fracking—well, I’m sure you know all about that because of Mr. Flemming.”

He frowned again.

“Oh, you don’t think you’re known by the company you keep, do you. I mean that someone would try to hurt you to get to Royce Flemming?” she asked.

“It’s crossed my mind. I’ll be careful.”

She extended her hand to him and he took it, not exactly in a handshake, not really holding hands, but a link, an unspoken bond. The moment passed, and she felt awkward again. She hated to admit it but she was attracted to him, yet felt so vulnerable with him.

“I can wait until you’re ready to carry things out,” he said. “We can put a load in my car, and I’ll follow you up. I’ve got a lunch meeting, but if you give me your number, I’ll call you later, see when you’re ready to be picked up for dinner if you think you’ll be safe with me— You know what I mean,” he added hastily. “Some idiot is loose out there.”

But she was starting to think Matt Rowan was a man worth being near even if someone was out to get him.

* * *

“I swear, this place always give me the creeps,” Tess told Kate and Char as she drove them toward the old asylum gates. When Kate had heard where they were going, she’d insisted on coming, too. “And not just because it’s supposed to be haunted,” Tess insisted. “Every time I see Brice Monson, I feel I’m looking at an alien, a creature from beyond.”

“Bright Star’s a mind manipulator of the nth degree,” their practical older sister, Kate, put in with a roll of her hazel eyes.

Tess slowed as they passed through the rusted, open iron gates and fence that surrounded the long-deserted Falls County Mental Hospital grounds. The hospital had started life in the 1880s as the Cold Creek Lunatic Asylum. They passed the modern playground area with its swings, slide and jungle gym. The county-owned park was deserted, though with the wind the swings still squeaked back and forth as if someone sat in them. The few dry leaves on the trees seemed to shudder, and little eddies of dead ones on the ground swirled and danced.

The hospital had once been a busy, self-sustaining establishment. Two five-story towers with cupolas stood sentinel over a large main red brick building, a relic from post–Civil War times. Gabe had said the big central structure once had male and female wards and separate dining rooms with patient rooms stacked above, under the copper roof. It was all derelict now. Vandals and ghost hunters broke in at times, especially around Halloween as they had just a few weeks ago.

Empty outbuildings in various stages of decay dotted the acreage, cottages for overflow patients, a small barn and greenhouses that had once helped to feed the patients and staff, even a carriage shop. Two graveyards, one with only numbers on the small tombstones were on the site. Flush with cash from selling the old cult compound site for fracking, Bright Star had hired workers to renovate two of the larger outbuildings and quickly build two wings with more expansion to come.

“They used to do lobotomies here,” Kate told them, shaking her head. “You know, primitive brain surgery that turned anxious, paranoid patients into zombies more or less. I swear, Bright Star’s doing a version of that himself the way everybody falls in line with his weird ideas. Grace and Lee used to have minds of their own, but no more.”

Kate was always the bright one, the scholar, and she’d been like a second mother to Char and Tess when their father had left and their mother had gone to work to support them in Jackson, Michigan. Through scholarships, grants and hard work, she’d earned her doctorate in archaeology, lived abroad and led archaeological digs—and then to Tess’s and Char’s amazement, had ended up back in little Podunk, Cold Creek, Ohio. And not just because of the ancient Adena Indian mounds here, but because of a man, so let that be a warning. But even here in Cold Creek, if there was any trivia or clue to be had, any theory to be probed, Kate was the one to ask, so maybe later Char would run past her the mystery of who tried to kill Matt on the mountain yesterday.

“Well, Bright Star will have trouble refusing to let Gracie and Lee see the three of us,” Tess declared, but her voice shook. “Safety in numbers! If only Lee and Grace would stand up to him, I wonder how far he’d go to keep them here. You’re right, Kate. It’s like he has some hypnotic hold on them—all of them.”

“If their children are being abused in any way, I’d like to get a court order against them,” Char said. “He can only hide behind freedom of religion so long if he’s hurting those kids.”

“I’m sure Gracie—and Lee—would never allow that,” Tess insisted.

They got out of the car at the closed gate to the new compound, one almost as ornate as the old Victorian one. The fracking must mean money coming out Bright Star’s ears, Char thought. This gate had a star bursting with beams formed from the metalwork.

“Bright Star likes to hit us idiots over the head with symbolism,” Kate muttered. “Such humility!”

As usual, a guard stood sentinel at his post. Kate did the talking, asking to see their cousins Lee and Grace Lockwood and their children. The guard, a tall man, apparently unarmed but with a walkie-talkie, moved a few yards away and spoke to someone in it.

“So far, so good,” Char whispered. “One for all and all for one.”

“You’ve been reading The Three Musketeers?” Kate whispered. “But don’t bet on ‘so far so good.’ Tess and I have both tangled with the guy.”

To Char’s relief, the man opened the gate and waved them in. Following him, they went up the new-looking concrete walk toward the main building with its two curved additions shaped like—like embracing arms? Angel wings?

“Gabe told me this was once a cottage for tubercular patients that they used to segregate, but it’s been really redone,” Tess whispered.

Another man met them at the door, and the guard went back toward his post. This man seemed his clone in their garb, kind of Quaker or Amish—definitely pioneer-looking. No Bright Star so far, but that could be a good sign. The man directed them down the center hall to a small, sparsely furnished room.

Char remembered their first cousin Lee from their childhood—fun, lively, a little shy maybe and handy with all kinds of tools. And Grace—Gracie, Tess still called her—had once been Tess’s best friend. They’d all missed Lee and Grace and their two darling kids, Kelsey, age four, and Ethan, two. Char had only glimpsed the children once on a weekend market day since she’d been back. She’d never grasped how Lee and Grace had been caught up in this weird web.

The room where they waited had no windows and was plainly furnished with four straight-backed chairs and a bench. The two torchère lamps reminded Char of the uptilted, soft lights in funeral homes. On the walls were framed quotes from the Bible in beautifully scripted writing. The largest one read:

You do well to heed a light that shines in a dark place until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.

“Maybe that’s where he took his nickname from,” Char whispered, pointing.

“And check out the other Bible quotes framed here,” Kate said. “They’re about hunting people down. I swear, that’s the way he targets people to get them in here, with initial goodwill, then total mind control, so we’d better—”

She stopped in midthought as the hall door opened and Lee and Grace entered. Char was pleased their escort closed the door behind them so the family could have some privacy, but she was disappointed they didn’t have the children with them.

Tears prickled behind Char’s eyelids. As they exchanged greetings and hugs, Tess started crying. When Char hugged Grace, she realized the sort of cloak she wore over her dress in this chilly place could not hide the fact that she was pregnant—very pregnant. She’d sure seen a lot of that out West under loose skirts and capes.

“Oh, Grace. Another baby!” Char cried. “Congratulations!”

Kate and Tess joined in, congratulating Lee, too, who didn’t seem a bit pleased. And Grace was acting so strangely that Char wondered if she was going to faint. She kept darting her eyes toward the scripted, framed star quote on the wall.

“What?” Tess asked. “Are you all right? Dizzy? Want to sit?”

Lee stood back as the sisters fussed over Grace, who looked not only delicate but ill. She had violet shadows under her eyes, and her face was drawn, almost gray. She was too thin despite her bulbous belly.

Finally, Lee answered questions about Kelsey and Ethan—doing well, just fine, yes, very happy here. Grace asked about Kate’s engagement to Grant and insisted on seeing her engagement ring, which seemed unusual to Char since she wore no jewelry herself and was dressed so plainly. She exclaimed over the ring but tapped the face of Kate’s watch as if it were time for them to go.

“Will you go out to a doctor to have the baby or does a midwife come in?” Kate asked. “I heard they do deliveries here, but we can arrange a doctor for you.”

“Yes, I’ll have a trained midwife, with lots of good support. I’ll be very well taken care of,” Grace assured them, but her voice was shaky.

Char wondered if Lee didn’t approve—of what?—because he kept glowering at them and had so little to say. She rose from the bench next to Grace and spoke to him. “Do you want a boy or a girl, Lee? With one of each already, do you have a preference?”

“A son. We look forward to a son,” he said.

This close to him, Char noted that the pupils of his eyes were large, as if they’d been dilated for an eye examination. Could he be drugged? He seemed almost robotic, zombielike as Kate had said earlier.

After only fifteen minutes together, it was time to say goodbye. Grace gripped Char’s hand and darted her eyes toward the wall with the morning star Bible verse again. Did she want them to understand that the name Bright Star was precious, special? Was she drugged, too? Surely not in her advanced state of pregnancy, but Char sensed she dare not ask. Maybe if she came alone later, brought a baby gift here, she could find out more.

They said their goodbyes, promising to be back soon with something for the children and the new baby—a month yet to go, Grace had told them. They all hugged again and when they did, Grace grabbed Char’s wrist and whispered what she thought was the word, watch, but she quickly stepped back and moved away without another glance.

Then it hit her. Grace had only pretended to admire Kate’s new engagement ring but she had tapped her watch. And she had whispered, “watch!” and looked at the wall with the framed quote. Watch for what? Was that a warning?

In the hall, Char noticed another framed quote about a bright and morning star, only in different script—big, bold letters, not fancy, cursive writing. It looked as if it hung opposite the one on the other side of the wall. The glass over the quote reflected in the hall light. On impulse, she stepped forward and lifted the frame from the wall. There was an eyehole behind it, so there must have been one on the other side!

“Hey, put that back,” their escort said.

“Oh, I just think it’s such beautiful words,” Char told him, pretending to stare down at the quote and turning her back on the small hole as if she hadn’t seen it. Blessedly, neither of her sisters said a word. “Do you know...” Char asked, giving the quote one more fake, lingering look. “Can I order one of these?” She handed it back to the man as Grace and Lee stood in the doorway staring. “I’ll drop by to find out later. And thanks for guiding us in to see our family today.”

Tess looked puzzled, and Kate looked livid as they walked out. They were back in the day care van before Tess demanded an explanation. “What was that all about?”

“Good work, Char,” Kate said. “But I’m not sure you covered up your discovery like that plaque covered the hole. That sounded pretty heavy-handed about wanting to buy one of that maniac’s self-aggrandizing quotes he’s ripped off from the Bible to justify his power.”

“What? Tell me!” Tess insisted.

“Grace is in some kind of trouble,” Char said. “Deeper than just not wanting to have her baby there. There was a peephole in the wall, and she was trying to tell us she—or we—were being watched.”

6

Char had hoped to calm down after the visit to the Hear Ye cult by the time Matt picked her up for dinner at the cabin that evening. But just being with him was revving her up in a far different way. It had been a while since she’d got dressed up for a fancy date—and it seemed ages since she’d been with a man so attentive and attractive.

As her mother would have said, Matthew Rowan “cleaned up well.” Not that he hadn’t looked nice this morning at Tess’s, but—well, who knew a suit coat over a shirt and V-necked cable-knit sweater could look so good. Char wasn’t one to care about appearances, but to have been picked up in a luxury car, not a truck, which was all she’d been used to for months—years...

Get hold of yourself, Charlene Lockwood, she lectured herself. You don’t care about luxury items. This guy is not Prince Charming. You will not let this turn your head.

As they walked through the door into La Maison, the blonde hostess gave Matt a kiss on both cheeks, which jarred Char back to reality. “Bonjour, mon ami. Booth or table, Matt?” She had a French accent, no less, and Matt said something to her in French.

The place looked about half-full, probably mostly with Lake Azure residents. A low buzz of conversation mingled with recorded music. Char knew this was one of Tess’s favorite places. Since her honeymoon, Tess was into everything French. And this woman knew Matt fairly well, so he was no stranger here.

“A back booth would be great,” Matt told the hostess.

They followed her past the bar. Several people sat there, including Brad Mason, the younger brother of Kate’s fiancé, Grant. Brad was a slightly shorter version of Grant with dark blond hair, blue eyes and a muscular build. He was talking to another man but was obviously watching the front door over the other guy’s shoulder. Char had only met Brad a couple of times at Grant’s house, once at the announcement party for their engagement. All she really knew about him was that he used to work at the lumber mill with Grant but now worked for the fracking king, Royce Flemming. So that meant Matt must know him, too.

“Yo, Matt,” Brad said, standing to shake his hand. “Glad you’re back among the living and—” Brad did a double take as he took her in. “Charlene, future sis-in-law. I heard you were there to save the day—and save Matt.”

“He got out of the truck on his own, but I was there.”

“So Royce said.”

“You’re not meeting him here, are you?” Matt asked, taking her arm, rather protectively, she thought. The two men seemed merely cordial, not really friendly, when she assumed their ties to Flemming would make them on the same team at least.

“Met with him earlier today—at length,” Brad said. “He’s working late at the lodge tonight. Actually, I’m waiting for another local success story, the Fencers, who live down the road from where your family lived, Charlene.”

“Sure, I know the Fencer place,” she said. “The current owners are probably the third or fourth generation there. It used to be a pretty big farm, but now it’s just a few fields. When we were kids, the Fencers didn’t have girls for us to play with but we got along well with the boys. So, you’re saying they’re getting a contract for drilling on their land?”

“That would make sense since they’re the closest place to the old Hear Ye cult land that’s got so much action there,” Matt said.

“Ah, yeah, right,” Brad said and took a quick swig of amber liquor from his glass. Not beer, the drink of choice around here, Char thought, but then times were changing. She could see the glass bottoms of numerous wine bottles nestled in a crosshatch pattern of shelves behind the polished wooden bar.

Brad went on, seeming nervous. “Yeah, that old Bright Star cult land above Cold Creek is a really busy place. Getting oil and natural gas out of there galore. Quite a production.”

They chatted about Kate and Grant’s coming wedding—Brad would be best man and Char and Tess would stand up with Kate. “And the view from the reception in their living room will be a burial mound,” Brad said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure the late-night comedians could make something out of that, but I’ll skip the one-liners.”

He shrugged with a grin that was more of a grimace. They said goodbye, and Char and Matt moved on to their booth in the back corner where the hostess had left their menus. The white linen tablecloth with a single red rosebud in a vase gleamed in the light of a big candle in a glass globe. More forks and goblets were set at each place than Char had seen in a long time.

“Lucky Fencer family, I guess,” Matt said, sliding in across from her. “Those leases or sales contracts mean a lot of money.”

“I’m pretty sure Mrs. Fencer is the sister of Sam McKitrick, Jemmie’s dad. I hope we won’t have another Hatfield and McCoy problem when the Fencers get filthy rich and the McKitricks are hurting up in the hills.”

“That’s one sad thing about the fracking. It’s like some winning the lottery and others close to them just watching the riches pour in. But listen,” he said, reaching over to take her hand, “let’s just get to know each other better this evening. No more talk about fracking, poor kids, how we met. What’s important is that we did, and we’re going to enjoy our time together.”

“Deal,” she said, lifting and shaking his big warm hand. He held on to hers. “And one more thing—no more trying to convince me not to live in the cabin. I’ll be fine there.”

“At least you’re not far away, and I know where to find you.”

He smiled. Their gazes held. Her stomach cartwheeled. They still held hands. Suddenly, she didn’t care if they were in the best restaurant in the universe or at the Dairy Queen. She was deeply happy to be here with Matt Rowan.

* * *

They were sipping wine and eating the delicious, warm French bread when Char saw the Fencer family trail into the restaurant as if they had just entered Disneyland, craning their necks to look around, eyes wide. She knew it was them because, though she hadn’t seen him for years, she recognized Joe Fencer. Brad bounced up to greet them. She couldn’t believe Joe had four kids already.

For sure she remembered Tess saying that Sara Ann, the mother, was one of the McKitricks. Brad directed them to a distant table, one in Char’s line of sight. He was ready to wine and dine them to close the fracking contract on the land of their family heritage.

She didn’t say a thing to Matt about all that, since he’d set out rules for the evening, but her mind went again to little Penny Hanson up on the mountain, holding her precious colored crayons. One of the Fencer daughters, maybe nine years old, was obviously in awe of this place. She sat bolt upright in her chair, stroking the white linen tablecloth and nearly jumping out of her skin when the server handed her the large leather-bound menu. Brad was playing host, drinking water now. At least that family lived in town so the kids could all get to the consolidated schools.

“So, you have no one special in your life, besides your family?” Matt asked, salting his salad, as if that were a nonchalant question. “You asked if I have kids. Why are you especially dedicated to children who are hurting, little ones living on the edge?”

“Ha. I knew you’d be the first one to bring up the kids we’re not supposed to be talking about. You have a soft heart for them, too. I can tell by your helping out the McKitrick family. It’s not only because Woody was your employee and friend, is it?”

“Touché. I owed him for teaching me a lot about the area, about the people outside the realm of Lake Azure. In a way, maybe you can take up where he left off.”

“The mountain folk themselves are the teachers. But to answer your question, no—no special man in my life. I had a college romance that I thought would lead to a future, but he had stars in his eyes for a big corporate career in the East—he’s in New York City—and that just wasn’t me. Okay, I know that look. Yes, you’re thinking, there are lots of poor, needy kids in New York, but I prefer, as you put it, living on the edge. Well, the edge of civilization, not the kind of edge you almost went over.”

“Now we’ve both broken the taboo conversation rules.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her as if in a challenge. “But, if you’re reading my mind now, I’m in trouble.” His smile widened to a boyish grin as he finally looked away and speared a slice of tomato.

Char picked up her wineglass and took a slow sip to calm herself. She didn’t even know this man two days ago, and now... But this dinner would surely be it. Just like her college love, she and Matt were so different. Different economic levels, different goals, their futures poles apart.

They both ate chicken cordon bleu and pommes frites. Ah—so these were what were called French fries in America.

Meanwhile, Matt explained that Royce had been almost like a father to him since his dad had died young. The Lake Azure community kept him busy full-time. He wasn’t in on the Environmental Expansion Company.

“You might know,” she said, deciding to ignore another one of Matt’s conversation caveats for the evening, “they put the words environmental and expansion in the company name. Don’t they realize that—despite the good things the money can do for this area—fracking can also hurt the environment? What about all these new roads and the noise? And I’ve read it can pollute groundwater. Oops—sorry. Too heavy a topic.”

“No, that’s all right. There are pros and cons, but if the U.S. can become less dependent on foreign oil, it’s a good thing, right? And I do like a woman with her own opinions, honestly. If you were right down the line with things I like or say, I’d think you were just out to please me and had no backbone.”

“Good!” she said as their server returned, and they both ordered chocolate crepes for dessert.

* * *

It was a frosty night with silver pinpoints of stars stuck on a black velvet dome of sky when Matt drove Char out of town. A bright curve of moon smiled down at them. He took her on a short tour of Lake Azure, pointing out his house and telling her he’d have her to dinner at the lodge soon. All the houses backed up to wooded hills and had treed lots as if the forest embraced them.

“By the way,” he told her, “almost all the wood for these buildings came from Grant Mason’s lumberyard, so you can tell your sister Kate this place helped pay for her wedding.”

The tennis courts, volleyball area, shuffleboard and archery range weren’t lighted, but old-fashioned streetlights threw pools of gold along the curved streets. It seemed to her a very romantic place—in the old sense of that word—with several skaters on the lake and people bundled up, roasting marshmallows or hot dogs over a fire on the beach.

“If we just had snow it would look like a Currier and Ives card,” she told him.

“We do have sleigh rides next month. I’ll take you on one.”

So, she thought, with another frisson of excitement, he intended that they would go on, be friends at least. The way he looked at her and some of the things he said made her believe—and hope—he meant this was the beginning of more. No, that would never work. Not only were they from different worlds, but almost different universes. Without realizing it, she heaved a deep sigh.

“What?” he asked as he drove out toward the highway past the stone sign announcing Lake Azure Community.

“It just seems a sort of haven, that’s all. I hope those who live there appreciate it, especially when they drive in past the derelict farmhouses and old town.”

“Some know how blessed they are, some don’t and won’t.”

“How about Royce Flemming?”

“He wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Char. He worked his way up, just like my father.”

“At least your father didn’t mean to leave you.”

“Like your dad did? I got the idea you and your sisters had made up with him.”

“We have, but it doesn’t quite heal the initial pain of desertion. I was close to my mom, too, and cancer took her.”

“We have a lot more to get to know about each other, to share.”

As he turned up the curved road toward her cabin, the headlights of the big car slashed through bushes and tree limbs. “By the way,” he said, “since I take it you liked the look and feel of Lake Azure, there’s a place that needs a house sitter this winter—folks who head to Florida, just in case you change your mind about—”

“You said you wouldn’t try to talk me out of staying in the cabin up here. I decided to do it and I will. A woman with her own opinions, right?”

“Right,” he said, but he hit the steering wheel with his fist, lightly, just once.

He pulled into the cabin’s narrow drive, and they sat there a moment. He switched off his headlights, then turned them on again. She had the feeling he’d say more, maybe try to talk her out of staying here again. But he got out, leaving his headlights on so they could see. She’d left a light on inside the kitchen, but it did little to pierce the hovering blackness here. This place had a different feel from the vast openness of Navajo land at night. Closer, tighter with the hills, even though her location overlooked the open valley far below.

Just to make the point again that she was her own woman, she was tempted to open her car door before he came around, but she let him do it. He took her hand as they headed for the cabin, which now looked so small.

They stood in the beams from the headlights, while she fumbled with the unfamiliar key and new lock. Reluctant to go in, to end this night, she opened the wooden door a crack. It had a glass window that came partway down, lending them wan light from inside, though it was no match for the headlights.

“What’s that old but true line?” she asked as he stood close, blocking the wind for her. “I’ve had a wonderful time—and I mean it.”

“Me, too,” he said, and lifted a warm hand to tip her chin up. “I want you to understand that tonight was not really payback for what you did. I wanted to do it—for myself, too, as if nothing bad had ever thrown us together in the first place.”

Char started to nod as he dipped his head to kiss her. Soft at first, almost friendly, then serious for sure. She felt like a naive teen on her first date, unsteady, curious, needy.

They broke the kiss and stepped apart, still staring at each other, lit by the headlights. She moved her hand to shove the door open and he took a step back to turn away. Without warning, an arrow slammed into the door and stuck there, quivering between them.

7

Matt grabbed her—almost tackled her—and rolled them off the low concrete single step into the wet leaves. He pulled her around the corner of the cabin, where they huddled, kneeling with her pressed between him and the outside wall.

“I—I can’t believe that,” she whispered. “We could have—could have been hit.”

“And I’m the common denominator. Either someone’s been following me, looking for another chance at me, or someone’s staked out your place, knowing we’re together.”

They were whispering in each other’s ears. “The headlights made us the perfect target,” she said. “If we hadn’t stepped apart...the arrow came head high, not chest level.”

“Either way it could have killed one or both of us.”

She was not only scared but furious. Someone had ruined her new place, ruined this beautiful night.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’m going to get to the car, turn it around so the headlights shine into the trees where the arrow must have come from. It’s sticking in the wood at an upward angle—like it was shot from the sky. Probably just arced up, then hit.”

“Should we call Gabe?”

“Not unless we spot someone. My bet is we’ll find no one out there. And it’s late. Let’s give him a break and call him in the morning. Tonight you can go down to stay in one of the guest rooms at the lodge where—”

“It’s my first night here! I’m not running, even if some stupid hunter or even worse wants to scare me off.”

“Char, just for the night!”

“I’m not going to leave. I’m going to get that arrow for evidence, tape up the hole and lock my doors.”

“Then I’m staying, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll sleep on the couch, just in case.”

“And if it’s you the shooter’s after? That could have been the second attempt on your life.”

“You just hunker down here, and I’ll be right back.”

He ran low to his car, got in and turned it around, switching on his brights so the headlights probed the trees on the other side of her driveway. She peered around the corner of her cabin. Nothing except shifting shadows of the tree trunks, one against the other. Then glowing eyes, like a cat’s—oh, two deer—peered out at them before bounding off. Could some local hunter have been stalking game at night, shot, and the arrow missed and zinged into her door, a freak accident a hunter didn’t want to own up to? Elinor Hanson said her husband sometimes hunted with bow and arrow, so others must, too. Lake Azure had an archery range.

Matt finally turned off his headlights and got out of his car. He locked it behind him with a touch of the key. The lights blinked once before the car went dark.

“Did you see the deer?” she asked.

“You mean someone was aiming at those deer and hit your door? If you make me leave, I will, but I think I should stay the night to make sure nothing else happens.”

And so, Matt Rowan spent the night of their first date in her cabin. Actually, she was glad to have him on the couch between her and the pierced front door. Except having him so close all night not only comforted her but made her toss and turn in half-waking dreams not of fear but of longing.

* * *

At seven in the morning, Char heard Matt talking on the phone about things happening down in Lake Azure, not about their problems. She got dressed, popped into the bathroom, then found him in the living room, pacing and talking on his cell. He tilted it away from his mouth, but kept listening as he whispered to her. “Call Gabe, maybe take the arrow down to him. It’s still bagged on the kitchen table. I was online looking at arrows for what must have been a recurve bow. Yeah, Jen,” he said into the phone. “I’ll be right in. Order me some breakfast from the dining room to be brought to my office, okay?”

“A recurve bow?” she asked when he punched Off.

“A crossbow with a real punch, but luckily it arched upward and caught the door on the downward trajectory—that’s what I’m suspecting, anyway. But the arrow we took out of the door doesn’t look like ones online. I read that you can unscrew the metal tips and reuse them. I wonder if the shooter makes his own shafts and fletching. Mention that to Gabe when you show him the arrow.”

She walked closer. If he’d used the bathroom, she hadn’t heard him in there. His clothes were wrinkled but he looked awake and alert. The only way she’d know he’d been here all night was his beard stubble—black, like his hair but flecked with silver.

“So,” he said as she plugged in the coffeepot that sat on the wooden counter. “Are we still on to visit the McKitrick family later today?”

“You’re willing to go back up on Pinecrest after what happened there—and here?”

He came into the kitchenette, turned her toward him and took her shoulders in a light grip. “I refuse to let someone spook me. As stubborn as you are—”

“Strong-minded.”

“Right. You ought to understand that I’m not going to turn tail and run. I want to get to the bottom of this.”

“Me, too. We’ll go in my truck.”

“And I’ll bring a gun, just in case.”

“You have a gun?”

“And a rifle. Which I never touch, but I’ve got a license for both weapons. I prefer shooting below par on the golf course. How about three o’clock? And we’ll be careful we’re not followed.”

“I’ll pick you up at the lodge?”

“Good. And you know, despite what’s happened, it feels right to be with you.”

“Me, too—the same.”

He bent to kiss her cheek. His beard stubble brushed her skin. “Pinecrest Mountain, here we come again. And watch yourself until then.”

“Matt, that archery range down near the tennis courts—does anyone shoot recurve crossbows there?”

“Not that I’ve seen. Strictly Robin Hood, Boy Scout stuff, but I’ll ask Ginger, our instructor. You are heading out right after me, aren’t you?”

“As soon as I get my shot of battery acid here,” she said, indicating the coffee. “Can I pour you a cup?”

“Sure. To go, please. I have a meeting at eight. You’ve got my cell number, so call me today if anything seems strange.”

He took the coffee she poured into her own travel cup and headed out.

If anything seems strange, he’d said. Oh, yeah, a lot seemed strange. How strong her feelings were for him. Deep concern that someone might be out to kill him—or now, her. And a little bit of mistrust for two thoughts she’d had last night but was trying to ignore. First, that the weird arrow attack gave weight to advice from Matt and her family that she shouldn’t stay in the cabin, but surely that could not be a setup or warning from any of them. Worse, that before Matt turned his brights on last night, he’d blinked his headlights as if it were a signal to someone out in the darkness of the trees.

* * *

“You weren’t home last night at all, were you?” Royce asked, popping his head into Matt’s office door, then stepping in. Matt had a suite of offices on the first floor of the lodge, and Royce always stayed upstairs in the guest suite while his assistant, Orlando, took one of the smaller rooms.

“I turned off my phone for a while,” Matt told him, looking up from his laptop. Next to it was the tray with the remnants of his hastily eaten breakfast.

“It upset me, considering what happened to you. I was worried. So I had Orlando go over and knock on your door—no dice—no Matt.”

“I was with a friend.”

“Really? Let me guess. A lady friend?” he asked with a wink.

Matt decided not to play that game. Char and his feelings for her were strictly his business, at least for now. After all, Royce had tried to suggest she had set him up to hit him up. “Royce, how can I help you?”

“You’re touchy, but then it is early morning, and you don’t look like you’ve slept. I wanted you to know I have a suggestion for you about a local guy—been a small-time farmer—who would be a good groundskeeper to take Woody’s place.”

“Woody was head groundskeeper, so he’d need to be good.”

“I’ll bet he is. Joe Fencer. The family is selling their land to EEC out on Valley View Road across from the big drill spot, that old religious cult land. Brad said Joe’s wife told him on the q.t. she was afraid that he needed something to do and was real conflicted about giving up his family’s land. You’re the man around here, so how about it?”

Matt hesitated. He’d been looking for someone local who had farm or gardening experience. He decided not to tell Royce he’d seen Brad hosting the Fencers last night when he was with Char. Still hovering at the door, Royce stared at him hard.

“I’ll interview him tomorrow, if you want to give me his number.”

“Great. Good. Like to tap into local talent, right? I’m learning the wisdom of that myself. See you later for your board dinner meeting, then.”

Royce had barely stepped out when Orlando knocked once on the door frame and stepped into the office. Matt put the phone down before he made his next call. He was starting to think his “open door” policy was a mistake today.

“Listen,” Orlando told him. “I never got to tell you I’m glad you’re unharmed after that freak accident up on the mountain.” His dark eyebrows seemed to meet over his aquiline nose as if he were always frowning.

“Thanks. Wish I could say it was an accident, but I don’t think so.”

“Did you get a good look at the driver? I’m sure the local sheriff’s on it, but can I do any sniffing around while I’m out and about for Royce? I’m thinking it could be a local redneck who hates the fracking but hit you instead of Royce since I’m guarding him.”

“I only saw the guy’s eyes at a distance—through two windshields and my own panic. You’d better leave things to the police. But thanks for being concerned, Orlando.”

“Well, sure I am. I know how much you mean to the boss, like the son he never had, he said. He keeps me pretty tight to him, but let me know if I can help—that’s all,” he said, and went out.

Matt felt good Orlando had made the effort and the offer. Matt knew he thought Royce spent too much time here in the boondocks, as he’d overheard him call Cold Creek—that is, until everyone on Royce’s payroll except Matt, who had opted out, starting profiting from the local fracking boom. Matt wondered if Royce had offered Orlando a big piece of that action. But since Matt himself had turned that down, he decided not to ask.

* * *

After Char dropped off the arrow at the sheriff’s office—Gabe was out on a domestic dispute call—she headed for Grant Mason’s home, where Kate was overseeing the dig of an ancient Adena mound, practically outside her fiancé’s back door. Kate was always good at thinking her way through things, and Char knew she could use some help.

As usual, there were several trucks and a car parked in the loop of driveway before the large, handsome house. The front door was locked, so rather than ring the bell, Char walked around back.

“Hi, Kaitlyn. Is Kate here?” Char asked Kate’s right-hand woman, Kaitlyn Blake. The grad student resembled Kate in coloring, in personality—even in name. Sometimes Char was felt slightly jealous of Kaitlyn since Kate seemed like a big sister to her. But, just like Grant Mason’s love, Kaitlyn’s friendship had helped Kate get through some recent betrayals and hard times.

“Oh, hi, Char. She’s sifting out some debris for teeth and bone fragments. And probably muttering under her breath about how much the undergrads working here have to learn, or about the cave-in, which set things so far back. I’ll go get her.”

Char sat on a patio chair and watched the busy scene until Kate appeared, looking dusty and sweaty but happy. “We’ve got a complete female skeleton, the first one!” Kate greeted her, clapping dirt off her hands. “And we’ve found what I think are the charred remains of a young male, who was probably a slave sacrifice. So, you aren’t heading back out to try to face down the person I’d like most to sacrifice—Bright Star Monson?”

“No. I’m going to give that a little time, but I am determined to talk to Grace alone somehow—when we’re not being spied on. Kate, I went out with Matt Rowan last night and—”

“Great! That’s worth sharing,” she said, beaming at her. Big sister Kate had always worried that her two younger sisters wouldn’t be happy because of their tough childhood when Tess was taken and then Dad left them.

“Just listen for a minute. Matt and I were standing outside the door of my cabin...” Char’s voice trailed off. Well, she might as well just spit it out.

But before she could continue, Kate spoke. “You moved in. Okay, I didn’t think you should, but you’re a big girl now.”

“Thank you! Anyhow, someone shot an arrow into the door right between us.”

“What? On top of his almost going off the cliff? Are you okay? You look all right. I’d hug you if I wasn’t a mess. Who was it? Who did it?”

“We don’t know or Gabe would probably have him—or her—under arrest. I thought I’d bounce some ideas off you if you have a second.”

“Sure. Shoot—I mean talk.”

Char explained about Henry Hanson being out hunting with a bow when she visited his family and that he might be angry with her for interfering in his daughter’s life. She figured he could be a stalker of people as well as game, maybe an abuser of his wife, at the very least. She mentioned the archery range at Lake Azure and the fact someone could still have been after Matt, not her. She told her they saw two deer shortly after the shot, so it could have been a hunter’s arrow that went awry. But she couldn’t bring herself to mention how it seemed to her that Matt had blinked his lights as if it might be a signal to someone—nor how he, like her own family, didn’t want her to stay in the cabin, wanted her to move down to an empty house at Lake Azure and had really pushed for that after the arrow hit.

“So you went back to Tess’s,” Kate said when Char took a breath. “Told Gabe what happened and slept there.”

“No, Matt insisted on sleeping on the couch and nothing happened—you know what I mean.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You know, you left out Bright Star’s possibly being ticked at all of us, but especially you after you discovered that peephole. The Hear Ye faithful are supposed to be peace-loving folk, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have weapons to ‘smite’ his enemy. You did see those Bible quotes about hunting on the walls of that room, didn’t you—could he be hunting people?”

Char’s stomach went into free fall. “I saw them but didn’t read them, except for the one extolling himself. Hunting quotes—from the Bible?”

“Right. You’ve heard that the devil can cite scripture for his own purpose, haven’t you?”

“Can you recall what the wall plaques said?”

“I looked them up. Just a sec, and I’ll get what I printed out. It was a pretty easy search.”

While Kate darted inside, Char got up to pace. Too much was happening too fast, and she couldn’t just keep running to her sisters. She’d like to run to Matt but could she trust him? At least the way they met could hardly be a setup.

Kate rushed back out with a single sheet of paper. “You know, we found a couple of intact Adena arrows in the tomb,” she said as she passed the paper to Char. “That’s apropos of nothing, just crazed archaeologist trivia. Check out that first quote from the book of Jeremiah.”

Char read aloud.

“I will send for many hunters and they shall hunt from every mountain and hill, and out of the holes of the rocks.”

“Sounds like this terrain around here, doesn’t it?” Kate asked. She leaned in, looking over Char’s shoulder and pointed at the next one, from Psalms 140. She read it out.

“Let not a slanderer be established in the earth. Let evil hunt the violent man to overthrow him.”

“Creepy, huh? Bright Star probably considers all of us slanderers if we don’t support him and his lunatic ways.”

“Or if we try to take someone like Grace and Lee away from him.”

Char read the last one from Lamentations aloud.

“They tracked our steps so that we could not walk in our streets. Our end was near, our days were over, for our end had come.”

She shook her head. “Kate, I agree he’s crazy, but I can’t see him—or one of his hunters—whoever that would be—stalking me. They wouldn’t even know where to find me.”

“I just want you to include him in the mix—and be careful. Most of all, don’t even think of returning to see Grace alone.”

Both of them jumped when a young man’s voice called out. “Kate, we’ve got a new find!”

“Well, back to the kind of hunting I do,” she said. “Listen, you and Matt Rowan have a standing invitation to have dinner here with us. Just give me warning so I can look presentable and get food on the table. And once again, you be careful about more than just wayward arrows. I’ll just bet Matt’s the kind who could sweep a girl off her feet. And, if anything strange happens at the cabin, you come here or go back to Tess’s.”

Char hugged Kate despite the fact she looked as if she’d emerged from a coal mine or had taken a fracking job around here. “I’ll be careful,” she promised. “Can I take these Bible quotes with me?”

“Sure. But don’t let them get to you.”

Or anyone get to me, Char thought as Kate headed back to her dig.

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