Whispering Springs. Amanda Stevens
The bored driver waited for her at baggage claim, placard in hand as he scanned the harried travelers. There was her name in big bold lettering: Ava North.
She was almost embarrassed to wave him over. It wasn’t like she’d been traveling for hours or needed assistance getting from point A to point B. The flight from Houston to San Antonio had taken all of fifty minutes, less time than the commute from her apartment to the airport.
Ava could have easily headed west on I-10 in her own vehicle, but Blair Redding, the former college classmate who had put together this ill-advised gathering, had insisted on arranging all the transportation. No doubt with the intent of making it harder to leave before the week was up. Ava wouldn’t be at all surprised if she and the other guests were asked to relinquish their cell phones once they arrived at the destination. Blair had always been that much of a control freak.
Steeling herself for the coming days, Ava put up her hand to attract the young man’s attention. She didn’t like vacations in general and reunions in particular. Spending time at a remote ranch with the people she’d left behind years ago was a version of hell she would have preferred to avoid, yet here she was. An uncharacteristic outburst in district court had jeopardized not only what should have been a slam-dunk case but also her five-year career as an assistant DA. The judge had threatened to hold her in contempt, and her superior had promised a suspension if she didn’t make herself scarce for a few days.
“You’re exhausted,” he’d said, not without sympathy. “The caseload we get in this office wears us all down eventually, and you do yourself no favors with the hours you keep. How long has it been since you put in for a personal day, let alone a real vacation? Go,” he’d insisted when she tried to formulate a passable defense. “Get out of my sight before I’m forced to do something drastic.”
Ava had dragged herself home, where she intended to drink and fume for the rest of the day. But idleness, her mother always said, was Ava’s worst enemy, followed closely by the unholy trinity of overreaction, righteous indignation and self-destruction. No matter how appealing the thought of a good wallow, Ava knew a week of brooding in her apartment would lead nowhere good. So she’d dug the invitation out of the trash and RSVP’d at the last minute. Then she’d packed a bag and headed for the airport that same afternoon without allowing herself time to reconsider.
The man with the placard gave her a perfunctory smile as he picked up her suitcase. “This is it? Just the one?”
“That’s it. I’m Ava, by the way.”
“Noah Pickett.”
“Have the others arrived yet, Noah?”
“Two flew in over the weekend. They came with a lot of baggage,” he felt compelled to add.
Ava wondered if she was to take his observation literally or figuratively.
“Do you remember their names?”
“Jane got in on Saturday. The redhead came on Sunday. I don’t remember her name, but I remember her,” he said with a grin.
No man alive ever forgot Celeste Matthews. “What about Blair? I assume she’s already at the ranch.”
“Since last week,” he confirmed with a nod. “Her husband is arriving today.”
So they were all there, Ava thought with a shiver. With the exception of Lily, of course. Lily Callen had been the group’s first tragedy, a horrifying suicide on graduation weekend that had left everyone stunned. The days following her jump from a hotel rooftop had passed in a nightmarish blur of police interrogations and funeral preparations. Afterward the friends had parted in a flurry of tearful goodbyes and silent recriminations. Ava had fled to the isolation of her family’s beach house for the summer. Blair had gotten married. Celeste had backpacked through Europe with a guy she barely knew before settling down in New Orleans with another. Jane had moved to California.
And Dylan Burkhart, the love of Ava’s life, had disappeared off the face of the earth.
Funny how his desertion still niggled at times, mostly when she was already feeling blue or vulnerable. No reason why it should, of course. After all, she was the one who had ended their relationship. She was the one who had sent him away. Told him in no uncertain terms that it was over and she didn’t want to see him anymore. She’d just never considered that he would take her at her word.
No matter. Some things weren’t meant to be, and Ava had no regrets. She was happy enough with her chosen path, but her time in the DA’s office had changed her. Not that her physical appearance was so different. Same brown hair. Same green eyes. But she’d become hardened and world-weary. A cynic though she’d once been a romantic.
Such was the life of a prosecutor, she thought with an inward shrug.
She wondered how Blair had coerced the others into coming, especially Jane. She’d been the first to lose touch. Ava hadn’t seen or heard from Jane Sandoval since the day she’d driven her to the airport. That strange goodbye had lingered with Ava all summer long, but then law school had consumed her time and attention and she’d eventually moved on, too.
Over the years, she’d heard from the others sporadically. Celeste still lived in New Orleans and Blair was in Austin. For a while, the three of them had made an effort to get together, but their visits had been awkward and unpleasant. The events surrounding Lily’s death had eroded their friendship, and Ava was only too happy to put those days behind her. She rarely thought of any of the women anymore. Even Dylan was little more than a passing memory. Or so she told herself.
“Have you ever been to Whispering Springs?” The driver gave her a sidelong glance as he stored her bag in the back of the SUV.
“A few times in college. A group of us used to go out there to rock climb. Spooky place.”
“You’re a climber?”
“Not me, no. I have a thing about heights. I like to hike, though, so long as the trail doesn’t get too vertical.”
“You’ll find plenty of easy trails around the ranch,” he assured her. “How long has it been since you were there?”
“At least ten years.”
“You won’t recognize it now. The owners have completely restored the property. I thought they were crazy when they first came in with a boatload of cash and a scheme to turn a run-down old ranch into a retreat, but the place has been booked solid since they opened seven years ago.”
“I just remember how isolated it was. And the springs really did seem to whisper, especially at night.” An unexpected chill seeped in as Ava thought back to those weekend excursions. Had their first trip to Whispering Springs been the start of her feelings for Dylan? Or had she been secretly in love with him for years, hiding it from herself and the others because he was taken?
“It’s a natural phenomenon,” Noah was saying.
“The springs?”
“The whispering. It has something to do with the rock formations.”
“Oh, I see. No ghosts, then,” she teased.
“I didn’t say that.” A shadow flickered across his face as he waited for her to climb in the back seat. Then he closed the door and went around to slide behind the wheel.
“What did you mean by that?” Ava asked curiously as he started the car and merged with the airport traffic.
He shrugged. “Nothing important. Just shooting the breeze.”
“Really? Because I get the feeling I said something that disturbed you.” She caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Did I?”
“Your