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  “I don’t understand.”

  Deke rubbed a kink in his neck. “When I finally confronted her, she ran. Then I followed her to a small town in the Smokies called Wildcat. Let me tell you, brother, this town is creepy. The locals claim werecats live in the woods.”

  His brother’s lack of comment told Deke the rumor might be true. After all, they’d grown up in the mountains, and in the woods, all kinds of wild animal life took shape.

  “What’s she doing there?” Rex asked.

  “Staying at an old abandoned orphanage.”

  “An orphanage? What’s that all about?”

  Deke hesitated. “Elsie lived there when she was younger.”

  “You mean Deanna has been looking for her and she was at a orphanage?”

  Disgust mushroomed inside Deke. “That’s right. Her old man stole her from her mother, then moved them around from town to town. He kept changing their names and IDs so no one could trace them.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “She didn’t say, and I don’t think she knows. He dumped her here when she was fourteen.”

  “So he may still be alive?”

  “Maybe. She hasn’t heard from him since he deserted her.”

  Rex released an expletive. “I’ll get Brack to hunt for him. If or when we find the SOB, Deanna can file kidnapping charges.”

  Abuse charges, as well, Deke guessed, but he refrained from comment.

  Rex cleared his throat. “So what did she say when you told her about Deanna?”

  “The truth upset her. Elsie’s old man told her that her mother didn’t want her. And later, he told her Deanna was dead.”

  “Damn.” Rex hissed.

  Deke squinted toward the woods. He thought he’d seen a shadow. Could it be Elsie’s attacker or one of the wildcats?

  Seconds later, a deer pranced through the opening, and he released a pent-up breath. “Elsie claims she needs time to think,” he finished.

  “To think about what?” Rex asked. “I can’t believe she doesn’t want to hop on the first plane out here.”

  “I think she’s in trouble, Rex. She’s frightened and secretive. Definitely running from something.”

  “From the law?” Rex paused.

  “I don’t know. Maybe an old boyfriend.” Deke twisted his mouth in thought. “Someone attacked her last night in the manor.”

  “Geez. Did she report it to the police?”

  “No, she refused to. Another reason I’m suspicious.”

  “Right, be careful,” Rex warned. “And don’t let anything happen to her, Deke. It would kill Deanna.”

  “I know. I’ll play bodyguard until I can figure out what the hell’s going on here.”

  “Good. Just watch her. Keep her safe. Earn her trust.”

  “Winning her trust is not going to be easy, Rex. She’s terrified of something.” Or someone.

  “It wasn’t easy with Hailey, either. But it was damn worth it.”

  “That was different,” Deke argued. “You and Hailey…you had a personal connection from the beginning.”

  Rex chuckled. “Yeah, that was different.”

  His sarcastic tone set Deke’s nerves on edge. “I don’t intend to get involved with Elsie,” he said in a stony voice. “I’m only doing this for.”

  “What does she look like?” Rex asked.

  Deke frowned, remembering that long curly hair. Those mesmerizing eyes. Those sweet kissable lips.

  But he’d messed up by getting involved with a client once before and gotten screwed, and he wouldn’t do it again.

  “Like her picture but she’s older.”

  “All grown up, she must be a beauty.”

  “I’m hanging up now,” Deke said, ignoring his brother’s ragging. “What are you going to tell Deanna?”

  The sound of Rex rapping his knuckles on the desk echoed over the line while Rex contemplated his answer. “I’ll tell her that we talked and that you have a good lead.”

  “Thanks.” Deke snapped the phone closed. What had he said that had given Rex the impression that he was attracted to Elsie?

  Elsie was just a case to him. A beautiful, mysterious one, but he would walk away when he took her home. Just because his brother claimed to have met his mate for life, didn’t mean he would.

  Through the open car window, the sounds of the woods intensified from behind the manor, and his heart pumped faster, heat and blood spiking. The faint echo of an animal’s cry for help chilled the already frigid air, and the sound of another animal giving chase in the woods followed. Heavy paws pounded the earth, then the swish of brush and bramble as it raced through the dense foliage. The wild was calling his name again.

  No woman would ever understand his need. Ever fulfill that part of him.

  He was a loner. A man who liked to be on his own. A man who belonged with the birds and animals.

  Not tied to a woman.

  But Elsie resurrected other needs he couldn’t meet in the wild or alone. The need to hold her, to share heat, flesh against flesh. To feel her lush body, to pound himself inside of her and make her scream his name in the throes of passion.

  To mate with her as the wild animals did, fast, furious, with no barriers.

  But the price of loving someone was too painful.

  And some needs had to be left unmet. Because some animals lived alone and belonged to no one but the forest.

  Just as he did and would continue to do so long after Elsie Timmons had gone home.

  BURT THOMPSON PACED the confines of his law office, tension knotting his neck as he stared out his window at the rolling hills and snowcapped mountains. “You’re sure it’s Elsie Timmons?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Mires snapped. “She stayed at Wildcat Manor last night. I told you not to send the will to her.”

  “I didn’t,” Burt argued. “Hattie Mae must have had someone else mail her a letter.”

  He wheezed a breath. “Then again, the Timmons girl hasn’t conta me yet, so maybe she isn’t here to take ownership of the house. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  “A coincidence, my ass,” Mires growled. “You know good and well that’s baloney. She hasn’t been back in ten years.”

  “Maybe she just returned to pay her respects to Hattie Mae.”

  “Or to divulge what happened there years ago.” Mires released a string of expletives. “We can’t allow that.”

  “Don’t you think I’m aware of the danger?” Burt barked.

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  “Give it a day or two. I’ll see if she contacts me, then find out her plans.”

  “We have to get her to leave town as soon as possible,” Mires said, his voice laced with worry.

  Burt poured himself a scotch on the rocks and downed it, his hand shaking. “I understand. I’ll take care of the problem.”

  “You’d better. And Burt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It has to be final this time. Pay her off big-time or something.”

  Burt laughed silently. Mires had no guts. Bribery would only make her come back for more. No, they had to get rid of her. Elsie Timmons would not expose them. And if she started asking questions about Hattie Mae’s death, if Elsie realized the old woman hadn’t passed of natural causes, that she’d been murdered…

  No, she’d never find out the truth.

  He tossed the highball glass into the fireplace and watched it shatter. The fire burst higher into the hearth as if it might explode. Just as trouble would if the truth were revealed.

  The truth will set you free, his mama used to say.

  But the truth would not set him free. Hell, it would destroy him and the others.

  Just as they would Elsie Timmons if she didn’t go away.

  Chapter Six

  The chill of the bedroom ignited memories of the earlier attack, but Elsie refused to allow the incident to deter her from her mission in Wildcat. She spent several hours cleaning and dusting the house, then had to wash up. Doors s
ecured, she turned on the shower, praying for hot water, but without the furnace working, an ice-cold spray splattered her hand. Shaking her head with frustration, she wrapped her bathrobe around her, grabbed her cell phone, checked information and located a fuel company that promised to deliver fuel for the outdated radiators within the hour. The call to the electric company came next.

  And finally, the call to Burt Thompson, the lawyer who’d handled Hattie Mae’s affairs. She needed to inform him that she was responding to Hattie Mae’s wishes. Then she’d go into town and search for hired workers to help her get the place in shape.

  She wanted to complete the project as as possible.

  He answered on the third ring. “Mr. Thompson?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  She considered using a fake name, but as far as she was aware, no one in town had knowledge of the orphans’ names. Besides, she needed her legal name in order to claim the property.

  “My name is Elsie Timmons.”

  A long pause followed.

  “Mr. Thompson?”

  “Yes. I’m surprised to hear from you.”

  A sliver of unease tickled her spine. “You know who I am?”

  “Of course. I handled Hattie Mae’s will.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve come back to Wildcat Manor because of her.”

  Another silence.

  Elsie frowned. “Hattie Mae sent me a letter and suggested I use the manor for a teen center I’m planning to open.”

  “Let me warn you, the town was not enthusiastic about having an orphanage of troubled kids here years ago,” Thompson said in a curt tone, “and they won’t be now.”

  His comment stung. Elsie remembered vividly how some of the people in town had treated the girls. The orphans had been considered bad, sinful, dangerous. The adults had been afraid of them, while the teenagers had taunted and called them ugly names. The old familiar shame washed over her, but anger replaced it.

  “Mr. Thompson, I’m aware of the town’s history. But certainly the people have progressed past their small-mindedness.”

  Thompson’s breath hissed out. “How dare you.”

  She inhaled sharply, mentally preparing for battle. “I’m not a frightened teenager now, Mr. Thompson, and I won’t be intimidated.” She paused for a response, but his sullen silence vibrated with anger, so she continued. “Most of the girls at the orphanage had family problems and needed love and attention, not to be judged and shunned. Perhaps if someone had taken the time to care about them and help them, they might have turned out to be valuable citizens who could have contributed to the town.”

  “They nearly burned the orphanage down,” Thompson snarled. “And that fire killed the very man who took care of them.”

  Bile collected in Elsie’s throat. If only he knew the truth about what Mr. Hodges had been like. “I wouldn’t call what Mr. Hodges did to the girls taking care of them,” she said tightly.

  “Are you finished with your diatribe, Miss Timmons?”

  Elsie fisted her hands. “Just one more thing. I believe if I appeal to the locals’ Christian values and humanity, they’ll offer their support. There have to be some caring individuals in this town, and I intend to find them.”

  “Well, good luck there.” His tone was as cold as the brutal wind outside. “But don’t say that I didn’t warn you, Miss Timmons. And just so you know—a few nosy people have co searching for information about the orphanage before and well…they either disappeared or ended up dead.”

  Elsie shivered at the deliberate attempt to frighten her.

  Her fingers went to her throat, massaging the bruised skin, the memory of the attack returning. The feel of the man’s hands closing around her neck. The scent of his breath against her ear.

  The whine of a baby’s cry echoed from the eaves of the house, and screams of fear and helplessness followed. All memories or ghosts lingering?

  Yes, danger was here. It vibrated in the air. But she would change things and build the center so the lost ones could find redemption.

  And no one, not Thompson or even the devil, would stop her.

  DEKE’S TREK INTO THE WOODS rejuvenated him. He’d searched the forest, using his keen senses to determine if the rumors about the mountain lions and werecats were true, but he hadn’t caught sight of them. Still, an unknown scent of evil permeated the air, just as it had when he’d walked past the basement in Wildcat Manor. Whether its source was human or supernatural, he didn’t know.

  He stomped ice from his boots as he climbed into his SUV, and glanced at the manor one more time. He hated like hell to leave Elsie alone, but she obviously didn’t intend to share her secrets with him. He’d have to investigate on his own. She had his number. If she needed him, hopefully she’d call. He couldn’t very well stalk her.

  If he pushed too hard, she’d run again.

  Dark skies covered the mountaintops, the tremor of trees shivering a reminder of how deadly the elements could be. He shifted into gear and drove slowly across the icy road in town to the center of Wildcat. A metal sign with the name of the town and an etching of a bobcat dangled in the wind, supposedly welcoming visitors.

  But he didn’t expect them to welcome Elsie or his questions.

  The old faded storefronts desperately needed paint and boards replaced, the roads had potholes that needed filling, and the few folks who had ventured out this morning rushed along the town square, battling the wind, their shoulders and heads hunched inside bulky winter coats. A small white church sat at one end of the square, the jail and sheriff’s office ironically opposite. A general store offering both hardware and groceries occupied the center of town, surrounded by a hair salon, gun shop, antique store, fabric store, gas station and a drugstore. He noticed a café called Wildcat Crossing at one corner, and turned into the parking lot, hoping to get a hot breakfast and some answers.

  The minute he entered, he felt as if he’d walked into a time warp. Two old-timers wearing overalls played checkers in the corner over a table made from a whiskey barrel. Pictures of covered wagons, railroads and the mountains dominated the pinewood walls, and an ancient cash register held station at the checkout counter. Two white-haired women sipped iced tea from mason jars. The menu sported everything from homemade biscuits with sausage, red-eye gravy and country ham, to chicken and dumplings and chitlins. He frowned. He never actually believed people ate chitlins.

  The scent of hot coffee drove him forward to the counter. Two men dressed in suits glanced at him, but when he met their gaze, they quickly turned away. A few others stared openly.

  A pudgy white-haired woman approached him, snagging the pencil from her hair. “What would you like, mister?”

  “Coffee, and that country lunch special.”

  “Ham or sausage?”

  “Ham.”

  She poured him a cup of coffee, then shouted the order at a skinny man wearing a stained white apron and hat.

  “Where’re you from, mister?”

  He read her name tag. Norma Jo. “Colorado.”

  Her eyes shot up, and he realized that forks had stilled and others had tuned in to listen. Strangers in town must be an anomaly. How many of the folks here knew Elsie? And of the ones who did, who knew she had returned?

  “What are you doing here in Wildcat?” Norma Jo asked.

  He sipped the coffee. “Traveling through.”

  “Through to where?”

  He ground his heels into the floor. He was supposed to be asking questions, not answering them. “I haven’t decided yet. But I’ve heard things about this town that intrigue me.”

  She cocked her head sideways. “How long do you plan to stay?”

  Until he could convince Elsie to leave with him. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Haven’t decided.” The cook handed her his plate, and she slid it in front of him.

  “Actually, I’ve done some real estate developing, and I found this abandoned building up the mountain. Wildcat Manor. I’m thinking of buying it.”

&nb
sp; Curious, wary looks flew back and forth across the room. “What the hell you want with that old place?” one of the men from the checker game asked.

  Deke shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll turn it into a hotel.”

  “Fat chance you’d have getting anyone to spend a night there,” a curly haired woman said. “It’s haunted.”

  “Really? What else can you tell me about it?”

  “It used to be an orphanage,” the man playing checkers offered.

  Norma Jo fidgeted with her uniform. “Yes, until one of the kids set fire to it. Killed the man who ran it.” She sighed, her eyes rolling skyward in memory or disgust. “Miss Hattie Mae closed it after that. She couldn’t handle those bad kids alone.”

  Deke nodded. “Yeah, Homer told me about the fire. He also said the man’s wife died recently. Who owns the place now?”

  Norma Jo shrugged. Everyone else remained silent.

  “Did Hattie Mae will it to someone in her family?” he asked.

  “She didn’t have any family,” the elderly woman said. “Died all alone. So sad after she tried to help those children

  “What about the girls she took in?” Deke asked. “Some of them must have been close to her.”

  “They were mostly runaways,” the woman on the other side of the counter said with a huff. “Sinners, thieves, liars. The state sent some of them to her. Poor Hattie Mae tried to help ’em, but some kids are just born bad.” She hesitated. “To tell you the truth, I think Hattie Mae was scared of some of them.”

  “Why? Did one of the kids hurt her?” Deke asked as he bit into a fluffy biscuit.

  “She never would admit they hurt her, but she always had bruises,” another lady offered.

  “And a black eye once or twice.” The curly haired woman shivered. “Some of us tried to have the place shut down to protect her, but we never were successful.”

  Deke frowned. “Did they find homes for the children when the orphanage was disbanded?”

  A hush fell over the room. A few patrons dropped their heads, pretending renewed interest in their food.

  Finally, Norma Jo answered. “Mister, people who adopt want little ones, babies, not dangerous kids with criminal records, or a pregnant teen to take care of.”