The Man From Falcon Ridge. Rita Herron
basics. The paint selection in the hardware store went quickly, although people stared and whispered behind their backs just as they had in the grocery store. Did they think she was crazy for buying a house where a family had been murdered?
Painful childhood memories surfaced. How many times had she attended a new school and been the center of gossip? She’d been the little orphan girl nobody wanted.
Rex frowned as they stepped up to the cash register. Hailey paid the elderly man behind the register in cash.
“You the lady who bought the Hatchet House?”
Hailey shifted on her heels. “Yes.”
The old man cut his gaze toward Rex. “You’re one of the Falcon boys, ain’t you?”
Rex stiffened beside her and offered a curt nod. “Rex.”
“I thought you boys were gone.” He leaned back in his cane-back chair, his eyes bulging. Several customers turned and stared. A white-haired woman in a purple knit pantsuit pressed a hankie to her mouth, and another lady ushered her kids out the door, not even bothering to button their coats before braving the elements.
“No, I’m back at Falcon Ridge.” Rex’s boots clicked on the floor as he strode out the door. Hailey followed, wondering at the hostile atmosphere between the men.
Granted she had her reasons for being wary of Rex, but the townspeople had almost seemed afraid of him….
REX’S RESOLVE to exonerate his father grew stronger as he left the hardware store. This time he wouldn’t let the locals run him and his brothers off. Not until he knew the truth.
He drove back up the mountain road, his body tight with tension, the Jeep occasionally skidding on the icy pavement. Though fog and snow enveloped them in the vehicle together, thankfully, Hailey remained quiet. She seemed lost in her own world, oblivious to his problems.
“Thanks for driving,” Hailey said as they parked in front of her house.
“No problem.” He killed the engine, then jumped out and carried the paint and hardware supplies to the storage room while Hailey unloaded the grocery bags onto the front porch.
Late-afternoon sunlight splintered through the forest, flickering off her reddish-brown hair, reminding him again of a red-tailed hawk. But the owl’s incessant cry for a mate echoed in his mind, and the wind whipped those long strands around her face, tempting him to touch her. They were alone here together. Inside, they could light a fire. It would be cozy.
Jeez, he was only feeling this way because of the town’s reaction. That and the natural attraction of man to woman. Not because Hailey was special or could be anything important in his life.
Rattled, he suddenly felt a desperate need to escape her for a while, and an even more desperate need to focus on his reason for returning to Falcon Ridge.
“I’m going to the house to pick up some tools to repair the kitchen sink,” he said curtly. “And I need to check on this injured hawk I found in the woods. I’ll be back later.”
Her cheeks glowed with the cold as she nodded, her body relaxing slightly as if she was relieved to see him leave.
He jumped in the Jeep and started the engine, then ripped across the icy dirt drive, eager to put Hailey out of his mind.
He’d hike in the woods, clear his head, talk to the only creatures in life who understood him—the birds of prey.
Then he’d drive back to town and question the sheriff to see what he remembered about the murders.
AN ODD ODOR PERMEATED the house. It smelled like gardenias… A pile of dead ones lay on the table.
Hailey’s breath caught.
What in the world? How… Who had put dead flowers on her table?
Was the person still inside?
She paused and listened, her breath wheezing in the tense silence. Nothing. Except another scent—cigarette smoke…and aftershave. Old Spice?
The smell turned her stomach, reminded her of her third foster father.
A creaking sound jerked her head toward the stairs.
Maybe there was a vagrant nearby who wanted her to leave? Or a ghost? Or had Thad found her already?
Perhaps she should call the police, or Rex. But then she’d have to tell them about Thad. For all she knew, he’d spread the word that she’d stabbed him in the eye, and the cops were looking for her. They might even arrest her. With Thad’s connections, she’d end up rotting in a jail cell for assault and battery when she’d only been defending herself.
Grabbing her cell phone from her purse and a kitchen knife for protection, she slowly moved through the parlor. The floor squeaked again as she walked, a sharp wind whistling off the thin windowpanes. Nothing downstairs, so she slowly climbed the staircase. An ominous foreboding tickled her neck as if she wasn’t alone.
Then she spotted the attic door. A note had been stuck on the wooden frame. “Leave the Hatchet House or you’ll end up like the Lyles.”
She swallowed hard, then inched closer to study the photograph taped below the note. In the picture, the family was lying in a river of blood, gashes from the hatchet exposing bare bones, their eyes bulging in horror.
Her stomach convulsed as she staggered down the steps to escape. The sound of footsteps creaked again.
Whoever had put the picture on her wall was still inside and they were right behind her….
Chapter Four
Hailey’s heart pounded as she ran down the stairs. She had to escape. Get help. The gruesome murder scene flashed into her mind again. So much blood. Raw bones exposed. Gaping slashes on the woman’s chest, scratches and stab wounds on her hands. The man was the same, his right hand nearly severed, his bloody injuries beyond ghastly.
And the child…
A sob welled in her throat. The little boy…he had died so young. It wasn’t fair….
Tears filled her eyes, grief for the family welling in her throat. What kind of crazy person could do that to another human?
She swayed, her stomach lurching, and gripped the banister in an effort to hold herself upright. The floor creaked behind her, and she skipped a step, lost her footing and fell. Shrieking, she grappled for control, but her bottom hit the corner of the step with a painful thud. Flailing, she bounced down the last two steps and fell on her hands and knees. She tasted blood and realized she’d bitten her tongue. The furnace rumbled. The floor creaked again.
She shoved herself up, and darted toward the front door. Shadows rose behind her. Her vision blurred. The dim light in the hallway flickered, then went off, cloaking the house in darkness. She screamed and jiggled the door to open it, but the knob wouldn’t turn. He’d locked her inside.
He was going to kill her.
Panicked, she yanked at the knob again, then flung open the door. Cold air nipped at her cheeks as she ran across the porch and down the steps to her car. Her palms stung as she pulled at the door. But the car was locked, and she didn’t have her keys.
No! He was going to get her.
She had to think.
The screen door screeched behind her, flapping in the wind. No. No time to think. Pivoting, she tried to decide where to go. But the screen door hit the casing with a whack, and she took off running again, this time into the bowels of the forest. Maybe she could outrun him. Lose him. Hide behind a rock or in an old mine.
Or maybe she could make it to Rex’s house, and he’d help her.
She shoved through the bramble, forcing herself not to turn around. Every second counted. Steep, jagged red rocks coated in snow and ice rose around her. Massive pines and aspens stood like giant boulders, creating