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Borrowed Identity
Kasi Blake
APPEARANCES CAN BE DECEIVING…A groggy Kelly Hall didn't understand why her dead husband was standing in front of her, telling her their wedding night that had ended in his grisly "murder" had all been a dream. Was she going insane or was someone trying to kill her? Sinister threats lurked in the melancholy halls of Moore House…and all Kelly could be certain of was that this cold, magnetic man who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Michael Taggert she vividly remembered marrying was suddenly fiercely protective, cloaked in mystery and set off a lightning bolt of desire at the merest touch. As passion and peril spiraled out of control, would Kelly trust her life to the man whose deception could shatter the only love she'd ever known?



In a fit of panic, she lunged at the door, slammed it shut and twisted the lock into place
Kelly laughed at herself, seeing humor in her sudden paranoia. The legend of Moore House was actually getting to her. What was next? Would she hear bumps in the night? Rattling chains at midnight moving down the hallway?
Her home was miles from town. She savored the isolation, using Moore House to hide from prying eyes. Not many people were brave enough to step inside the black wrought-iron gates surrounding the property. Very few would willingly approach the massive Victorian mansion. Hardly anyone dared to grasp the brass lion’s head knocker in their hand long enough to see it.
They were afraid of ghosts.
The dead didn’t bother her. She was more afraid of the living.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
At Harlequin Intrigue we have much to look forward to as we ring in a brand-new year. Case in point—all of our romantic suspense selections this month are fraught with edge-of-your-seat danger, electrifying romance and thrilling excitement. So hang on!
Reader favorite Debra Webb spins the next installment in her popular series COLBY AGENCY. Cries in the Night spotlights a mother so desperate to track down her missing child that she joins forces with the unforgettable man from her past.
Unsanctioned Memories by Julie Miller—the next offering in THE TAYLOR CLAN—packs a powerful punch as a vengeance-seeking FBI agent opens his heart to the achingly vulnerable lone witness who can lead him to a cold-blooded killer…. Looking for a provocative mystery with a royal twist? Then expect to be seduced by Jacqueline Diamond in Sheikh Surrender.
We welcome two talented debut authors to Harlequin Intrigue this month. Tracy Montoya weaves a chilling mystery in Maximum Security, and the gripping Concealed Weapon by Susan Peterson is part of our BACHELORS AT LARGE promotion.
Finally this month, Kasi Blake returns to Harlequin Intrigue with Borrowed Identity. This gothic mystery will keep you guessing when a groggy bride stumbles upon a grisly murder on her wedding night. But are her eyes deceiving her when her “slain” groom appears alive and well in a flash of lightning?
It promises to be quite a year at Harlequin Intrigue….
Enjoy!
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue

Borrowed Identity
Kasi Blake


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
At twelve years of age Kasi Blake decided to be a writer and modestly rewrote the ending of a popular classic. She has an insatiable desire to read everything she can get her hands on. When she isn’t writing or reading, she spends time with her favorite nephew, paints with oils, travels and shops until she drops. She resides in Missouri with her two cats.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Kelly Hall—Either she’s losing her mind or someone is trying to make her think she is.
Michael Taggert—He has a job to do, and he can’t let anyone get in his way. Not even the beautiful blonde down the hall.
John “Paddy” Paddington—The private investigator has gambled away his future, but ten million in diamonds might be the ticket to his freedom.
Margo Lane—Kelly’s neighbor has disappeared, leaving her dog to fend for himself.
Mona Hall—Kelly’s mother is in a mental hospital for life.
Zu Landis—The assassin has been sent to do a job, but did he kill the wrong man by mistake?
Elvin Grant—His “boss” wants Kelly to sell her house. How far is he willing to go to convince her?
Wade Carpenter—This mildly retarded man has a way of finding things. Did he see something the night the killer struck?
To my mom for supporting my writing habit when
everyone else thought it was a waste of time.
And for all the “mom” things you do. Love you.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One
“Kelly.”
The whispered name pulled Kelly Hall out of her blissful sleep. At first she thought it was her husband calling to her. Husband. What an odd word. Married for mere hours as she was, it was going to take some getting used to. She smiled serenely, her eyes closed.
Her hand went to the other side of the bed, reaching for him, and found it empty. She forced her heavy eyelids open a slit, enough to see the illuminated numbers on the clock. Just minutes past four in the morning. Panic shot through her, setting every nerve ending on a razor’s edge. Where in the world could Michael be?
Her memory sported holes the size of baseballs, but not enough to keep her from remembering she was a married woman. Nothing short of brain damage could make her forget that.
She switched on the lamp and stared at the vacant side of the bed. There wasn’t even a telltale dip in the pillow to signify Michael had rested his head next to hers last night.
Her lips twisted into a grimace. Three generations of her family had lived in Moore House and not one had had a happy ending. She had been raised on stories of curses and doomed love. Everyone in the small town of Tinkerton, Kansas, knew about the legends of Moore House. Only the truly morbid and superstitious considered them fact.
Kelly didn’t believe the rumors surrounding her home. Michael hadn’t been carried off by a goblin in the dead of night. He was somewhere in the house, possibly the bathroom. Or maybe he was in the kitchen getting a snack.
She struggled to her feet in the enormous master bedroom, wobbling slightly. A wave of dizziness washed over her. Her stomach churned and her head throbbed painfully. Fearing she was about to be sick, Kelly headed for the master bath.
Halfway to her intended destination, she spotted her reflection in the vanity mirror out of the corner of her eye. A streamlined white satin-and-lace gown hugged her body like a mummy wrap. Why had she slept in her wedding dress?
She frowned as she struggled to recall going to bed, but her memory was a blank. She took a long look at the facts. Michael hadn’t made love to her. It didn’t make sense. He’d been so insistent they marry at once instead of next month as per the original plan. Why would he walk out on her, leaving her an untouched bride?
Who would want you?
She shoved the haunting words aside, knowing they must have come from a dream. Michael wouldn’t say such a hurtful thing to her.
Her rush to get to the bathroom forgotten, Kelly crossed the cold hardwood floor to the closet. She wanted to get out of her grandmother’s wedding gown, hang it up before it was ruined. Later, she would have it professionally packed once again.
She opened the door and reached for a hanger.
Michael was hiding in the closet like a ghoul ready to pounce.
Gasping in fright, she nearly jumped out of her own skin. “Michael! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Nervous laughter bubbled up in her throat.
Kelly moved closer and the other side of his face came into view.
Blood formed an intricate design on his cheek, around his eye. The red lines wove a pattern over the hard planes, starting deep in his hairline and ending at the base of his jaw. Droplets rained down on his blue chambray shirt.
She screamed and reached for him, grasping the front of his shirt in her desperation to hold him.
The body had been propped against the door but now it rocked as if disturbed by her outburst. He fell forward. Kelly jumped sideways to avoid the crashing body and tripped over the bottom of her dress.
Her head bounced against the hardwood. Pain shot from the back of her skull to the sensitive point just below her eyes. She wanted to scream, but only managed a small whimper.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, but she couldn’t isolate one long enough to focus on it.
Her husband was dead. She didn’t need to check his pulse to know for certain. His unblinking eyes confirmed what she felt in her gut.
He’d been murdered.
Kelly pressed her back against the wall, using it as leverage to raise herself up. Her eyes refused to blink or to stray from Michael’s body. Taking a deep breath, she bolted out of the bedroom, running as if the devil were on her heels.
The long hallway yawned before her, riddled with doors. Every bad nightmare she’d ever suffered sprang to mind, visions of killers hiding in the shadows and waiting for their next victims. What if the killer was in her house?
She stopped.
Her feet froze as if glued to the blood-red carpet that lined the several intersecting hallways. In her mind she saw the path she would take. She planned her route quickly, begging her legs to move. Fortunately, she knew the house, every inch of it, by heart. It didn’t matter that the corridor was windowless. She didn’t need the moon’s light to find her way out.
All she had to do was run down the hallway and turn left along another long, dark passageway. Eventually she would make it to the dual winding staircases that led up from the foyer, meeting on the second floor in front of an illuminated stained glass window.
Once she made it down the stairs, she would be safe.
Breathing hard, she silently screamed at her legs to move. They trembled beneath her, but she forced them to obey. Somehow she was going to make it to the front door.
She turned at the next hallway intersection and stopped again. A shadowy figure moved out of one of the rooms. It pulled the door shut. A flash of lightning escaped through the crack between wall and door, illuminating his features.
Michael?
She screamed.
Michael’s ghost turned in her direction and started straight for her. His hands stretched out before him as if he wanted to choke her.
Blackness shrouded her. She fell and her eyes rolled back, seeking the darkness. Her body turned to vapor. She collapsed into a pair of strong arms.

KELLY WOKE SLOWLY, drifting through several layers from dream to reality until she was fully conscious. A horrible vision of Michael popped into her head. He was dead, then he was alive. She’d seen him in the hallway coming out of his bedroom. Her heart thundered like a dozen horses galloping down the homestretch.
Drawing a deep breath, she took a personal inventory of herself. She was under the covers in her own bed, wearing a T-shirt instead of a wedding gown. But her relief was short-lived. Michael wasn’t anywhere in sight. Fear clotted her throat as nightmarish images surfaced. Her eyes strayed to the closet door.
It was closed.
She struggled out of bed, holding on to the mattress until her feet were firmly on the ground. As if drawn by a magnetic force, she went to the closet door. Each step was a silent march into madness. Her fingers trembled on the cold knob. It turned slowly in her grasp. She held her breath and tugged, automatically preparing to scream.
The door opened to reveal her wardrobe. Nothing sinister, just a full rack of clothing and a line of shoes at the bottom. She took a moment to search for blood, but she didn’t look very hard—partly because she didn’t think she would find any, partly because she feared she might.
Kelly left her bedroom in a rush to find Michael. A small doubt would linger until she saw him for herself. Only then could she be sure he was safe.
She stopped at the top of the double staircase and glanced up at the stained glass, unable to avoid it. An angel towered over her, shielding two young children beneath her cloak. It was meant to signify protection. However, something about the depiction of the angel made Kelly uneasy. Its eyes were dark and stormy, filled with something akin to hatred.
Kelly tore her gaze away from the haunting picture. She glanced over the hand-carved banister to the massive foyer below. The floor was marble, a shiny, almost transparent stone that reflected light from the crystal chandelier. The double staircase curved up both sides of the semicircular room. There were cutaway arches descending with the stairs, arches that held statues of Greek gods and noblemen. The statues, like everything else in Moore House, were old and chipped. Small lights behind each statue illuminated them at night.
The foyer had four doors, one per wall, beginning with the sturdy entrance, a thick door with two deadbolt locks and an old-fashioned brass knob. The parlor was directly to the right and the kitchen to the left. Both rooms were connected to the hallways that led to various rooms such as the formal dining room, the study and the billiard room. All were sadly withering from lack of use.
Below the point at which the two staircases met, underneath the stained glass, a pair of doors blocked the entrance to the library. The library, Kelly’s favorite room, was designed by a genius in her opinion. The walls curved slightly, yet held reams of books along endless shelves to form a complete oval. The library was the largest room in the house, built on a grand scale that would have pleased the wealthiest of kings. It was the only ground level room that didn’t have a second floor above it. The ceilings reached high to form a dome. The stained glass angel, a mirror image of it, stood high above the doors with a lightbulb attached to the top, a light that glowed day and night.
The second floor mainly housed bedrooms and bathrooms. There were a few small exceptions, like the sewing room.
The third floor had three short staircases. One led to the attic and the other two went to the long, rectangular ballroom. Both rooms were locked as far as Kelly knew.
She hesitated, hearing a noise.
Michael entered the foyer and stood near the bottom of the stairs. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, he turned hard brown eyes in her direction. They were cold, holding what appeared to be a trace of contempt. For a long breathless moment he seemed a total stranger to her.
She sucked in a painful breath, wanting to flee to the safety of her bedroom.
Instead Kelly wrapped her arms around her body. A chill swept over her, and she felt vulnerable standing there in nothing but a long T-shirt. They were married now and she shouldn’t feel awkward. But she did. Michael had only seen her fully clothed before. Their dates had ended with chaste kisses. He’d been a perfect gentleman, not trying to push her further than she was willing to go.
Now his insolent eyes raked over her seminude body. The desire in his gaze was easy to define, but there was something else she couldn’t identify. The unfamiliar expression on his face frightened her.
She took an awkward step backward, desperately wanting to go to her room and dress properly before attempting a conversation with him. Forever the klutz, she tripped over her own feet and bumped into the wall.
Michael raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His expression had turned to concern. Gone was the cold stranger, replaced by the old warmth of Michael Taggert.
“Careful,” he said, catching her by the arms and steadying her.
“You’re here.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.
“You were expecting somebody else?” The harmless smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Santa Claus, perhaps?”
He bent forward, placing cool lips on her forehead, branding her with fire. His fingers momentarily tightened like steel clamps on her shoulders.
“I wasn’t sure you were here.” She shivered, picturing Michael’s bloody face. “I was afraid something had happened to you.”
“Why?” He pulled her pliant body into his arms, holding her against his solid chest. He stroked her back. Obviously he wanted to comfort her, to reassure her.
So why did his touch have the opposite effect?
“It was…I saw you… Never mind,” she said.
“Bad dream?”
“Horrible.” She cringed at the memory of it, not understanding how her own mind could invent something so awful. “You were dead. You’d been murdered and placed inside the closet.”
“Do you know who killed me?” His eyes sharpened on her upturned face. “Did you see them?”
She laughed nervously, thinking he was making a joke, but he seemed serious. He wanted the awful details of her nightmare. His interest in the morbid dream filled her with dread. Some things were better left in the dark.
“No,” she replied. “After I found you in the closet, I raced down the hallway. Then I saw you coming out of your bedroom.”
“You thought I was in the closet?” Michael frowned at her as if he thought she was losing her mind.
“You were,” she insisted. “But you were in the hallway, too.” She rolled her eyes. “Now that I’ve said it, I can hear how ridiculous it sounds. It seemed so real at the time.”
“Dreams usually do.”
Changing the subject, she asked, “Why didn’t you wake me this morning?”
“Was I supposed to?” He shrugged. “I figured you needed the rest.”
“I don’t know what to say to you.”
Kelly walked away, needing time to plan her next words. She didn’t want to embarrass herself. Thinking about time reminded her that she hadn’t fixed her father’s favorite clock in days.
She descended the stairs, crossed the foyer and stepped into the parlor. The room had been decorated by her grandmother in dark colors and antiques before Kelly had taken her first breath. Kelly was reluctant to change anything. There was no need for her to redecorate, seeing that she seldom used the room, anyway. In fact there were only a few rooms in the house that she did occupy on a regular basis. Her bedroom and bath, of course. Also, the kitchen, and once in a great while she used the library.
The parlor’s high cathedral ceiling boasted a mural of a cloudy sky. Three windows with arches over them stood tall, nearly but not quite reaching the ceiling. They were concealed with heavy, dark green draperies. Not much sunlight filtered into the parlor. Her grandmother had preferred it that way.
Most of the furniture, all original pieces from her grandmother’s day, hid beneath dusty sheets now. When Kelly felt like sitting down, she went into the library or out to the solarium. Since she didn’t employ a staff there wasn’t anyone to help her keep the place clean.
Kelly went to the old grandfather clock, opened it and moved the minute hand to the correct time. The timepiece ran a bit slow, but it still worked. She had been brought up to value family heirlooms and some day she might have the clock fixed.
Kelly performed the task of setting the time in an effort to avoid looking directly at Michael. She couldn’t allow him to see the tears of confusion swimming in her eyes. Being near him made her nervous. It didn’t make sense to her. Michael had put her at ease with a simple smile, but that same smile chilled her now.
“I thought things would be different between us today. Why didn’t you make love to me last night?”
“I didn’t know you wanted me to.” He closed in on her, cutting off her escape route. His fingers caressed the slope of her neck.
A thousand tiny tingles shot through her body.
She turned to face him, purposely knocking his hand away. The parlor seemed smaller than usual, almost as if the huge room was closing in on her. Tension kept her body rigid. She needed answers, even if they hurt.
“I may not be as worldly as you, but I do know that men make love to their brides on their wedding night.” She stared at the top button of his jersey rather than meeting his gaze, embarrassed by her own words and a bit resentful that she should have to say anything. “Didn’t you want to?”
“Okay,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he, too, had a headache. “Let’s start over. From the top.”
“I want to know if I made a mistake last night.”
“What do you mean?”
Kelly counted to ten under her breath. She had known Michael for only three months. He had appeared out of nowhere. One day she’d been returning from a visit with her neighbor Margo Lane, and Michael had been standing on her front porch, peeking through the window. She neither liked nor trusted visitors, but Michael was different. He was charming, too charming, and he seemed to honestly enjoy her company. He was working on a book about infamous houses and the stories behind them. Of course he’d wanted to know about Moore House, but she was reluctant to tell him anything. The last thing she needed were more visitors and a book like his would bring them in droves. They would trample over her flower garden, invade her privacy and basically disrupt her whole life. Michael had agreed to drop the idea, but his interest in her seemed to grow with each passing day, no matter what she said to dissuade him. He’d pursued her with flowers and gifts, using one smooth line after another until she’d agreed to marry him.
“Last night, out of the blue, you begged me to elope with you—”
“Begged?” He interrupted her, a look of pure arrogance transforming his handsome features. “I don’t beg, sweetheart.”
If she didn’t know better, she would think she was talking to a complete stranger. His gorgeous face hadn’t changed. He had the same square jaw, the same chiseled nose and sculpted cheekbones. The change was in the eyes. They were the same deep brown, like warm brandy, but they seemed different, wary, as if they were holding dark secrets. Why hadn’t she noticed it before?
“You said you couldn’t live without me. You dared me to throw caution to the wind and elope with you.” Her forehead wrinkled with the memory. “You had everything ready. You brought my grandmother’s wedding gown down from the attic.”
“Your grandmother’s wedding gown?”
“You had a ring and a dozen white roses. You even had a minister from Kansas City.”
He shook his head. “A minister?”
“Stop repeating everything I say!” Hands on her hips, she exclaimed, “You weren’t like this before. You were nice to me. More than nice. You told me you couldn’t wait to marry me, and wanted to do it right away.” She blinked away the tears. “Why are you treating me like this? You said you loved me.”
Michael held his hands up and she thought he was going to surrender, admit to the joke, but his words took her on a twisted detour. “Look at your hand. Where’s the ring? Where’s the dress? Where’s your proof?”
She glanced down at her left hand, finding the fingers completely bare. Another realization hit her. When she had looked inside the closet that morning, her gown hadn’t been there. In fact, she hadn’t seen it since the nightmare.
She stepped across the parlor and plopped down on the sofa, questioning her own sanity.
“This is not happening,” she mumbled. “I didn’t imagine getting married. It was real. I remember every detail.”
“Relax,” Michael said, hovering over her. “Nothing to get upset about. It was just a dream.”
“It wasn’t a dream, dammit!”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting to all this?”
“Let me get this straight,” she said with a sigh. “We didn’t get married last night? We didn’t elope?”
“No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “But there’s got to be a logical explanation for your confusion. Did you drink any alcohol last night? Are you taking any medication?”
“I took a couple sleeping pills,” she admitted. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Why not?”
“You know why!” She glared at him. “The house has been making more noises than usual. It keeps me awake, and I was tired. I took the pills before you asked me to marry you.”
“Listen to yourself. Why would I ask you to marry me so late at night? And why would you say yes when you’d just downed a couple sleeping pills?”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said. He was right. She would have to be messed up to say yes to a proposal that late at night, and when she was so tired. But she remembered him pushing her to do so. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. “It seemed so real.”
“You suffered an unfortunate side effect from a drug. It happens.”
Could it be that simple? She grabbed on to the explanation, desperate to believe. Relief spread through her like rays of warm sunshine. She wasn’t losing her mind.
“Maybe your pills reacted with something else in your system,” he said. “It would also explain why you’re feeling poorly this morning.”
She felt silly. She would have to be more careful with medication in the future.
“I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower,” she announced. “I need to get dressed.”
“Okay.” Michael said, with a pleased smile on his handsome face. That smile lit up every corner of her heart. “I’m glad we cleared that up.”
“We’re still getting married, right?” She watched his expression carefully, looking for revulsion. “Next month? Like we planned?”
“Just like we planned.”
She was being a total idiot, doubting him when he hadn’t given her reason to. What sort of wife would she make if she couldn’t trust the man she was marrying?
“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding,” she said. “I feel like a big heel for jumping all over you.”
“Don’t give it another thought.” He smiled once again—a warmer smile this time. It almost reached his eyes. “Call me if you need anything.”
He walked off. She didn’t relish facing her bedroom alone. Knowing it had all been a dream didn’t evaporate the horrid feeling of spiraling out of control. It would take a long time for the images of Michael’s dead body to vanish completely.
She went upstairs.
Kelly entered her room and headed for the bureau. She needed to dress warmly. Moore House welcomed the chill of winter, holding on to the cold like a small child clinging to her favorite doll. Even in the summertime the house was cooler than most other places. It would cost a fortune to keep it warm, so she only heated the rooms she used on a regular basis.
She retrieved a pair of jeans and a light sweater. Kelly padded across the wood floor in her bare feet to the bathroom. Passing the closet, she purposely focused her eyes straight ahead. She would not look at the closed door again. It had been a dream. Michael wasn’t dead. Everything was great.
So why did she feel as if she were standing in quicksand and sinking fast?

KELLY DIDN”T GIVE a thought to the bathroom door until she’d been in the shower a good ten minutes. A noise startled her as she shampooed her hair. It sounded close by, close enough to be in the same room. She always left the door wide open when she showered, because the bedroom door was closed.
But it wasn’t locked.
Michael wouldn’t dare enter without invitation.
She peeked through squinted eyes, trying to see through the foggy shower glass. Shampoo dripped down her forehead, and her eyes burned painfully.
Kelly opened the shower door a few inches and stuck her hand out. A mental image of someone there, someone attempting to grab her arm, almost made her pull it back. Clutching a towel, she brought it inside far enough to wipe her face. Her eyes continued to sting. Closing them firmly, she rinsed the shampoo from her hair.
Another noise made her jump. She shut off the water and retrieved the discarded towel. Wrapping it securely around her wet body, she exited the shower. There was no one else in the steamy bathroom.
In a fit of panic she lunged at the door, slamming it shut. Kelly twisted the lock into place.
She laughed at herself, seeing humor in her sudden paranoia. The legend of Moore House was actually getting to her. What was next? Would she hear bumps in the night? Rattling chains at midnight moving down the hallway?
She had inherited Moore House from her father upon his early death. She had moved into it immediately, feeling instantly at home. She and Moore House shared common ground. The people in Tinkerton gossiped about them both, spreading nasty rumors and half-truths. They were both considered freaks. Somehow she felt as if Moore House accepted her, even wanted her.
Her home was miles from town. She savored the isolation, using Moore House to hide from prying eyes. Not many people were brave enough to step inside the black wrought-iron gates that led to the property. Very few would willingly approach the massive three-story, forty-seven room Victorian mansion. Hardly anyone dared to grasp the brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head long enough to use it.
They were afraid of ghosts.
The dead didn’t bother Kelly. She was more afraid of the living.
She turned toward the foggy mirror and reached for the blow dryer.
She froze instantly, terror shooting through her limbs.
Someone had penned a note for her, using a finger to write one word on her mirror. The three letters dripped water. They were already beginning to fade, but she could read the word clearly.
Die.
Kelly’s back hit the tiled wall and she screamed at the top of her lungs like a banshee. Once she started screaming, she couldn’t stop. One shriek after another vibrated through the large bathroom, bouncing off the walls.
She bolted from the room, fright leading to flight.
She rounded the corner on slippery feet and ran out the bedroom door.
Hands came out of nowhere. They grasped her wet shoulders in a steel grip.
Another scream ripped from her sore throat.

Chapter Two
Michael Taggert’s fingers closed over Kelly Hall’s creamy white shoulders. He swung her around and pressed her spine against the wall, his heart pounding at a marathon rate. Fearing the worst, he visually inspected her from top to bottom, reassuring himself she was all right.
A short towel was the only thing between him and her naked, glistening body. The green cotton ended at her upper thighs, exposing them to his avid gaze. Her blond hair hung in wet waves around her heart-shaped face. She was pale, for all of the color had drained from her cheeks.
Her blue eyes were wide, but they didn’t focus on him. Instead, she stared past him at the wall as if she wasn’t aware of him.
She continued to scream as if she couldn’t stop. She fought desperately to break his hold.
Michael pulled her into his arms and held her close. He whispered reassuring words into her hair while stroking her back until the shaking subsided.
After a few minutes, she pushed him away. Reason surfaced in her eyes. She blinked at him as if stunned, probably seeing him for the first time.
“I…” Her neck swiveled and she stared at the open door of her bedroom. Her teeth chattered violently. “I was taking a shower and…”
“What? What happened?”
“I thought I was alone, but I heard something. There’s a word written on the mirror. Someone was in the bathroom while I was showering!”
Suspicion colored her expression and Michael knew she was wondering if it had been him in the bathroom.
“I was downstairs when I heard you scream.” His gaze slowly moved down her towel-clad body. He released her shoulders, taking a step back for his own peace of mind. He needed to keep focused on the job at hand, had to remember to play the part of the devoted fiancé without getting carried away. “What frightened you? What’s written on the mirror?”
Kelly wrapped her arms around her body in a form of self-protection.
His gaze went to the scars on her forearms. This woman was no stranger to horrible circumstances. She’d been hurt badly.
“‘Die,” she sobbed. “The word die is on the mirror, written in the steam. Someone was in the bathroom with me.” Her hands shook as she wrung them together. “Do something.”
“Stay here while I check it out.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly and latched on to his arm. “I am not going to stay out here alone. I’m coming with you.”
“Stay behind me then,” he said, entering her bedroom.
At the moment he would have given every cent in his bank account to have a weapon. If there was someone dangerous nearby, how was he going to protect Kelly?
He felt her hands at his back, holding on to his waist with trembling fingers. Kelly was standing so close to him as they entered the bedroom together, he doubted a breath could slide between them.
She was too close. Everything about her was an unwanted distraction. The weight of her hands on his spine. The amazing floral scent of her skin and hair. The whisper of breath as she inhaled and exhaled at a steadily increasing rate.
They stepped into the bathroom and Kelly gasped. There were two words on the mirror now: Die Michael.
He turned on her. “Is this your idea of a joke?” Anger clouded his vision. He had a job to do. He didn’t have time to play games with the local head case. No matter how beautiful she was.
“But…I didn’t do that…I swear.” Kelly hugged herself again. Her entire body shook like a leaf in a strong wind. “There was only one word before. You have to believe me.”
Michael sighed. If she was acting, she deserved an Oscar. His gut told him she believed what she was saying. But Michael knew no one could have gotten into the room. They had both been standing in the hallway.
“You think I did it!” Her slender hands clenched into tight fists. She shook them at him. “I am not crazy!”
“Maybe the pills you took—”
“Get out!” She pointed at the door. “Get out of my room.”
When he didn’t immediately leave, she threw a bottle of shampoo at him.
He ducked, allowing the plastic bottle to hit the door behind him. He didn’t want to leave her alone in her present condition. He had no idea what she was capable of.
He could tell her the truth, but the truth could put her in even more danger. His hands were tied right now. There was work to be done. Afterward, he could tell her everything.
“Get some rest. The sleeping pills will be out of your system soon and you’ll feel better.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped. “You think I’m losing my mind.”
“No, I don’t.” He raked a hand through his dark hair, searching for the magical words that would put her mind at ease. “I think the drugs are causing this reaction. I also think you’ll be back to normal within the next few hours.”
She stared at him through sky-blue eyes that glistened with mistrust. Michael had learned early not to care what others thought about him, but the angelic blonde cut him to the quick with her suspicious gaze. For some reason he wanted her trust and respect. Unfortunately, he hadn’t earned either one.
“I want you to go,” she stated firmly.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I’ll be fine once you’re gone.”
Michael reluctantly left her to her own devices. Closing the door softly behind him, he stood there for several minutes, waiting for another frightened cry that never came. The dimly lit hallway remained silent. When he heard her walking across the bedroom floor, he left. She was safe in her room.

HAD SHE WRITTEN the words on the mirror?
No one else could have done it. She strained to picture the mirror in her mind again, trying to see it as it was before she’d left the bathroom to find Michael. There had been one word when she’d stepped from the shower. She was sure of it.
Maybe Michael was right in thinking she was losing her mind. He didn’t have to utter the words. It had been evident in the way he looked at her.
She’d seen the pity in his eyes. Avoiding that look was the reason she chose to live in isolation at Moore House. When she was growing up in Tinkerton, going to the local schools, she’d learned to hate the smell of pity. People in town knew the tragic story behind her scars. Most of them were kind, trying not to glance down, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need their pity or Michael’s.
Returning to the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water. She was lost, confused, with no idea what to believe. She prayed Michael was right about the sleeping pills. If her problem was that simple, it was easily remedied. She wouldn’t take them anymore.
She got dressed in a frantic rush, wanting to escape the four walls of her room. She purposely wore a long-sleeved sweater to hide her scars.
Kelly hurried down the hallway, but froze at the top of the stairs. She had an unexpected visitor.
Wade Carpenter, her best friend, was tiptoeing across the large foyer, heavy toolbox in hand. Wade was mildly retarded, but he was a genius when it came to carpentry work. He was larger than the biggest football player in the National League, an intimidating figure in faded coveralls.
“Wade,” Kelly called out.
Startled, he jumped at least a foot in the air. His toolbox hit the floor with a loud clang and the tools scattered across the marble with an awful noise, as if an entire orchestra had dropped their instruments at the same time.
“W-what?” His wide blue eyes snapped up to find her on the landing. “Oh, Kell. Hi. Were you sleeping?”
“It’s nearly noon,” she pointed out. “Why would I be asleep?”
He shrugged his large shoulders and kicked at an invisible rock. “I dunno. I knocked. I knocked real hard.”
“I didn’t hear you.” Kelly descended the stairs to stand beside her friend. Wade didn’t feel sorry for her or for himself. She felt most people could learn a lesson from him. He was nice to everybody.
“I have a key. I’m sorry.” Wade banged his head against the wall, punishing himself. “I knocked. I really did.”
“Don’t be silly.” Kelly stroked his back. She could barely reach his enormous shoulders. “I gave you the key so you could come in anytime you wanted to work on the house. Don’t apologize for using it.”
Wade was going to restore Moore House to its original beauty, although he worked for a construction company part-time, so he wasn’t always available. He didn’t believe in ghosts any more than she did. He loved hearing the old stories about the house’s origins.
Wade sank to his knees, grabbing a hammer and a wrench in his large fists. “I dropped my tools. I take good care of them.”
“I know you do, Wade.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Here, let me help you.”
“That’s okay. I can do it. I can take care of my tools.” His curious eyes turned in her direction. “Are you sad?”
She felt as if he was talking Greek to her. “Why would I be sad?”
“I dunno.” He placed the last tool in the metal box and stood, towering over her. “’Cause Michael left. You’re lonely. Huh?”
He thought Michael was gone. Why would he think that? She opened her mouth to correct him.
Before she could say anything, Michael appeared in a doorway off the foyer. Wade stiffened beside her. His eyes were glued to her houseguest, with a hostile emotion evident. It didn’t surprise her. Wade hadn’t liked Michael from the beginning. Although he hadn’t said anything bad about him. Wade didn’t speak ill of anyone.
Wade stuttered, “I—I d-didn’t know y-you were here.”
Michael shrugged without comment.
Wade took a step backward, fear in his gaze as if he was looking at the devil himself. Did he see the change in Michael, too? From Jekyll to Hyde, or vice versa, her fiancé had exchanged personalities sometime during the night.
Did he think he could fool her, pretend to be something he wasn’t? Which one was the real Michael? The animated, generous listener she’d spent so many hours with or the cold, magnetic man she saw standing in front of her now?
If she didn’t know better, she would think they were two entirely different people.
Wade turned abruptly and headed for the door. “I gotta go.”
“But you just got here,” she said.
“I gotta go now,” he insisted, dancing around as if he had to use the bathroom. He charged toward the exit. “Bye-bye.”
Kelly chased after him. She managed to reach him before he made it out the door. Her hand landed on his arm, tugging him to a stop. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Wade.”
“You mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Wade looked pointedly at Michael. “I’m not bad.”
“I know,” Kelly reassured him. “Don’t worry. I could never be mad at you.”
A smile tilted Wade’s mouth. He stepped out into the cold autumn day, and Kelly stood at the door, watching him go. Halfway to his truck, he bent over. He plucked something from the ground and turned to her, holding it high with a bright smile.
“I found a penny for my collection.” He began to chant. “Finders keepers. Losers weepers.”
She forced a smile. Wade’s hobby was finding things that other people lost. He kept them in a box in his room at home, watching over them as if they were actually worth something.
He waved at her, obviously excited about his find.
Michael spoke from directly behind her, far too close. His warm breath caressed the back of her neck. She wanted to swat him away like a pesky mosquito. His newfound attitude made her nerves tighten to the point of snapping.
“What was that all about?”
“You tell me.” She turned on him like a cornered animal would. “I haven’t seen Wade so upset before. What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t say a word to him. You were here the whole time.”
“I wasn’t talking about today.” She put distance between them, choosing to stand near the staircase. “You must have said something or done something when I wasn’t around.”
His lips compressed into a tight line.
She added, “I don’t even know you, do I? You’re a stranger to me. Were you pretending to love me these past few months? Was it all an act?”
He stared at her, his eyes cold chips of dark ice, and she knew he wasn’t going to answer her. He hid behind a stoic expression, not saying a word. He hadn’t been like this before today. Was it possible for a person to overhaul his personality overnight?
This Michael was like an exposed negative of the original photograph. He walked differently, stalking his prey like a hungry panther. Gone was the amusing swagger. He moved with a purpose now, walking with a quiet grace that was at odds with his big, muscular body. But it didn’t stop at the way he walked. There was the way he held himself, his gestures, the way he spoke. Everything about the man was different.
It made her want to scream in frustration.
For the first time since she’d moved into the old house, it seemed too small. His menacing presence devoured the oxygen. What could she do to protect herself against him if he attacked her?
Michael closed the gap between them with quick and easy strides.
“Are you afraid of me?” He asked the question with a look of wonder in his eyes. It gave her hope. He was stunned by her reaction, by her need to get away from him.
“Should I be afraid of you?”
A harmless smile tilted the corners of his mouth, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Answering a question with a question is an outdated and impolite way to avoid answering.”
“You started it,” he said. “How do you feel now?” His fingers stroked the side of her face. “Better?”
Her skin burned where he touched it, igniting her nerve endings. She realized, too late, that she was in danger of a different kind. Now she wondered what it would be like to kiss him again. Would it be different? Everything else had changed about him. Would his kisses be different, as well?
She feared she knew the answer already.
She gently pushed his hand away. “I feel fine.”
“Then why is your breathing erratic?”
Kelly swallowed hard. What was wrong with her? Michael hadn’t cared about her scars. Outside of Wade, he had been the one person she could open up to. So why did she feel uneasy with him all of a sudden?
“It was a rhetorical question,” he said. “I don’t expect an answer.”
“Good.” She inched her way along the wall, moving sideways past the staircase. “Can you tell me something?”
“What?” His eyebrow arched.
“Do you love me, Michael?” she asked.
There was an obvious hesitation, as if he was trying to figure out how to answer her question.
“Yes or no!” A voice at the back of her mind screamed at her not to ask. “It’s a simple question.”
“Sure I do.” He said the words without feeling or depth. He replied as one would to a child in need of humoring.
I never wanted you. It was a joke. You’re a joke.
The words shot through her like a bullet, bringing a searing pain with them. Kelly’s hands flew to her temples. Palms pressed hard against the sides of her head, she held it tightly, fearing it would explode. A soft whimper floated to her ears.
It was her. She was moaning while slowly sliding down the wall.
Hands enclosed her upper arms and tugged her up again. Her back scraped against the wall behind her as Michael used it to keep her from falling.
“What’s happening? Talk to me!” he demanded.
The pain receded, and she gasped for breath. Every thought had been forced from her mind. She couldn’t remember what she’d been thinking at the time the pain had hit, striking like a bolt of lightning out of a pure blue sky.
Michael held her close to his chest as if she was a precious treasure, and she could feel his heart beating beneath the palm of her hand. She was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell of the moment. The tension she’d been feeling in his presence was gone now. She felt safe and cherished. She didn’t want to move.
Kelly rested her head against him. Her equilibrium hadn’t returned yet. A few more easy breaths and she would be fine.
“Kelly, are you all right? Can you talk to me?”
She looked up at him. His dark eyes were filled with concern. He couldn’t possibly be faking the emotion. It was too raw, too powerful. Michael really did care about her.
“What’s wrong with me?” She asked the question in wonder, her mind a mass of confusion.
“You need to lie down,” he said. “I’ll help you upstairs.”
She wanted to argue with him. The idea of being in her room filled her with dread, but her vocal cords didn’t cooperate.
Michael swung her into his arms and carried her. She wanted to fight him, fight her deepening dependence on him, but she rested her head against his hard shoulder. He was a good man, and she was a paranoid dope for suspecting him of being anything less than wonderful.
The feel of his strong arms holding her close was too good to be real. She could happily close her eyes and melt into him. They would become one entity…
She silently berated herself. Was she a hopeless romantic or what?
Michael left her on her bed after asking if she wanted anything from the kitchen. She felt bereft, abandoned without those strong arms around her. Part of her wanted to ask him to stay, but she wasn’t going to be a clingy female. If he wanted to stay, he would.
She told him she just needed a bit of rest. The drug would clear out of her system and she would be able to focus once more. She longed to feel normal again. The woolly, disassociated sensation that dragged at her body soon would be a thing of the past. A little sleep and she would be fine.
When he’d left the room she groaned, realizing she needed to use the bathroom. Kelly struggled out of bed. She’d managed to take two steps when her bare foot landed on a hard, tiny, pebble-like object. It hurt.
She moved her foot and stared down, trying to find the offending item. She had bent over when a small white bead caught her eye. She picked it up and studied it. It appeared to be a small pearl. But where had it come from?
The answer floated up from the depths of her subconscious, an unwanted epiphany. She tried to deny it access, but her mind opened, spilling a recent memory. Her wedding gown had been covered with tiny pearls.
But the wedding dress had been part of a dream.
She knelt down on the floor. Sweeping her hands over it with long, desperate movements. She managed to find three more tiny pearls.
Kelly scowled at the white beads in her hand. If her wedding was a dream, then where had the pearls come from? If it hadn’t been a dream, why was Michael lying to her?

Chapter Three
The next morning, after pulling on faded jeans and a pink angora sweater, Kelly reluctantly went downstairs. Before leaving the sanctuary of her bedroom she placed the tiny pearls in a trinket box on top of her dresser. Asking Michael about them wouldn’t do her any good if he was lying to her. She had to find a way to trick him into admitting the truth.
Kelly stood in the foyer and wondered about Michael. Where was he? A small part of her hoped he had left the house and her behind. But she knew if he was gone, she would miss him horribly. Her feelings for him were muddled, melding together in terrible confusion. Did she love him or didn’t she?
It would be nice if she made up her mind before the wedding, she thought derisively.
She was tired, having spent the night tossing and turning, afraid to sleep for fear of nightmares. Several times she had heard strange noises in the walls. Most nights the sounds didn’t bother her. They were to be expected in a place as old as Moore House. But last night, layered on top of her fears, every strange sound vibrated through her entire being, chilling her to the marrow.
Several times during the night she had almost gone running to Michael’s bedroom, like a little child hoping to crawl into bed with her parents after a particularly bad nightmare.
Somehow she’d held her ground. She was an adult, not a child. She could handle a few bumps in the night on her own.
Michael stepped into the foyer, startling her. He stopped next to her, so close his proximity made her nervous. But he appeared to be going somewhere. He was wearing his denim jacket and his feet were encased in work boots. A set of keys was dangling from his hand. Good fortune was smiling on Kelly now. Maybe he would stay away. She was supposed to marry the man in a month. How could she? Being in the same room with him made her feel like a nervous cat in a dog pound.
“Leaving?” she asked, a thread of hope in her voice.
“I’m going into town for supplies. Is there anything you need?”
Privacy, she wanted to reply. Her uneasiness grew. She wanted him to leave, but at the same time she knew she would race after him if he did. She had too much invested in him to call off the wedding now.
“I don’t need anything,” she said with a sigh.
“Are you sure?” His piercing brown eyes stared straight at her, through her, as if he was trying to read her mind. “The forecast is for snow. I heard it on the radio early this morning. I don’t know how reliable the weathermen are in these parts, but I think we should be cautious. If we get as many inches as they’re predicting, we’ll be trapped inside for a while.”
She shivered. His last words echoed in her mind. She didn’t want to be trapped in Moore House with him. There were more than forty rooms, yet the place felt far too small for the two of them.
“I…” She turned away, unable to look into those bottomless eyes and think at the same time. “I guess we need staples. Get food that won’t need refrigeration in case the electricity goes out. Canned goods. Dried milk. The usual.”
His hand settled on her shoulder as if he sensed her need to put distance between them. She froze beneath the gentle pressure. Her breathing quickened. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?
“I’ll get a flashlight and some batteries, too, just in case.”
“Why?” Her eyes narrowed, and she spun around to face him. “We have three flashlights and you just bought batteries last week.”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “you can never have enough batteries.”
She watched him walk across the foyer to the front door, and she thought about the changes in him. He was hiding something from her. She could feel deceit in his every word. She opened her mouth to mention the pearls she’d found. The accusation soured her tongue, filling her with bitterness.
He stopped at the door and smiled wryly at her. “Will you be okay here by yourself while I’m away?”
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t hurry back on my account.”
Then he was gone. The door shut softly behind him. She regretted not having the courage to confront him with her suspicions. Either she was losing her mind or he was lying to her, setting her up for a fall.
Kelly grabbed the phone and brought it to her ear. She wanted to call her only close neighbor, Margo Lane, and warn her about the coming storm. The elderly woman had a hard time getting around. She didn’t have her own car, but relied on family and friends for transportation. She would need supplies, too.
Kelly remembered selling the guest house to Margo as one of the smartest things she’d done. At first she’d wanted an elderly couple to buy the place. She hadn’t needed the money of course; she’d made that clear to the Realtor. She was willing to take a financial loss as long as she liked the people, feeling lonely after the loss of her father. Margo had fallen in love with the little house on sight and begged Kelly to sell it to her. Margo had family, but they didn’t spend much time with her. Kelly remembered Margo’s last remark to her that day, the reason she’d told the Realtor to let Margo have the house. “You and I, we’ll look after each other.”
And they did.
The phone line was dead.
Kelly slowly set the receiver down. Her eyes went to the front door. Margo lived in a small bungalow down the road from Moore House. Kelly considered walking there. The place had been part of the Moore estate at one time, a guest house for visiting relatives and friends.
John Moore had bought five hundred acres and then instructed the builders to erect the mansion. It was followed by the guest house, barracks for the workers, a detached garage and a barn. Each building stood separate from the other, spread out over the great expanses of land. Over the years, piece by piece, bits of the Moore estate had been sold off, the seven-room guest cottage among them.
The guest house was connected to the main public road right along with Moore House. John Moore, the original owner, had wanted his guests to have their privacy, wanted them to feel as if they were in their very own house, a house separate from his. But the guest house was also connected by a rocky path that wound past the detached garage and eventually traveled up a hill to meet the guest house’s wraparound porch.
Kelly grabbed her coat and headed out the door. There was a thin layer of frost on the ground. If she fell on the rocky path, there would be no one nearby to hear her screams for help. Margo was hard of hearing, and there wasn’t another soul in the vicinity. Kelly couldn’t rely on Michael to save her; he would probably be gone for quite some time.
Despite the slippery conditions, she arrived in one piece. Climbing onto Margo’s porch, she rapped hard with her knuckles on the front door. She listened for activity inside the house, but didn’t hear anything.
Kelly wondered how long it had been since Margo’s relatives had checked on her. The woman lived alone, with a large golden retriever for company.
Kelly moved to the window and peered through, cupping her hands around her face to block the glare. Inside, the living room was empty, the television turned off. It was strange that Margo wasn’t watching her favorite afternoon stories. There was no sign of her anywhere.
Suddenly a large form hit the window near Kelly’s face, startling her. She shrieked and leaped away. Her foot caught the end of a wooden porch chair and she toppled backward. Pain lanced through her body.
Loud barking caught her attention. From her position flat on the porch, she peered upward. Margo’s dog was at the window. Boomer yelped at her, raking his paws against the glass in his excitement at seeing her.
Kelly struggled to her feet, using the chair as leverage. Finding her balance took longer. She retrieved the spare key from the potted plant near the front door, then slid the key home and turned the knob.
Boomer barked happily and tried to jump on her.
“No.” She pushed his front legs away. “Sit, Boomer.”
The dog followed her command and Kelly moved from room to room, calling out to the elderly woman, who should have been somewhere in the house.
She wouldn’t have left Boomer alone to fend for himself. A family member would have been called in to take care of him if Margo was planning to be gone long. Could her friend have gone for a walk alone and hurt herself?
Kelly hadn’t seen the place in such bad shape before. Margo usually kept her home immaculate, but today it was a wreck. There were empty cans on the kitchen counter and table. Papers were strewn across the floor. It looked as if a tornado had ripped through the cottage.
Alarm spread through Kelly like wildfire. Something bad must have happened to Margo. Where could she be?
Kelly put the dog on a leash and took him outside with her. He was more hyper than he’d ever been, jerking on his leash, trying to force Kelly to run. As if he hadn’t been outside in days, he ignored her firmly spoken commands and continued to struggle against the leash.
Kelly circled the house, calling Margo’s name. She paused frequently, hoping for a response. There was no reply, just total silence. Margo seemed to have vanished without a trace.
There was nothing else Kelly could do on her own. She led the dog back along the path to Moore House. Fortunately, she kept a spare bag of dog food at her place in case Margo ever ran out. When she was almost there, she thought she saw someone duck inside the garage—a shadowy form without recognizable features. Her breath caught in her throat and fear gripped her once more. What should she do?
Her hand trembled, weakening her grip on Boomer’s leash. The dog took advantage of her momentary distraction and bolted.
“Boomer!”
But the animal had raced around the garage, vanishing from sight. She wanted to call after him, but her mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Her respiration was labored, and she still had a long way to go to reach the safety of her front door.
First she had to check the garage, however. It was possible Margo had been on her way to see Kelly and had stopped in the garage. But why? What would her friend want in a deserted garage?
Kelly opened the garage doors and called, “Hello? Is somebody in here? Margo?”
The chains that had held the doors shut swung free, a padlock dangling from one end. Kelly never bothered to bolt the place. She didn’t keep anything inside the decrepit structure worth stealing. She kept her truck in the newly built garage on the other side of the house. The lock had been purchased by her father when he’d kept his car inside, before a tornado had made the place unsafe.
The building was dark and seemed to be empty. She took a step inside, groping for the light switch. But when she found it and flicked it on, the place remained dark.
“Hello?” Her voice seemed to bounce off the walls, echoing eerily. Kelly limped inside, though she was unwilling to stray too far from the door. Her ankle was beginning to throb after her fall on Margo’s front porch.
There wasn’t anyone in the garage. Light streamed through gaps in the roof, highlighting certain areas. She planned on tearing the decrepit building down eventually; it was becoming a real danger. It had originally been a big red barn, but eventually was transformed into a white garage.
She turned to go, satisfied she was alone. But just as she did so the doors swung shut, startling her.
A nervous laugh escaped her throat. Sleeping in the legendary Moore House was finally getting to her. The stories had warped her mind from youth, desensitizing her. She had nothing to fear; there were no goblins hiding in the dark.
A soft click sounded like a thunderous explosion in the stillness.
She knew the origin of the sound before testing her theory. The doors were chained and locked. Someone had purposely trapped her inside the four-car garage! Besides the doors, her only escape route was a small window near the ceiling, too high for her to reach. Even if she could find a ladder or bench and climb up there, the window was painted shut.
Kelly banged her fists against the door, screaming for help even though she knew there wasn’t anyone around to hear her frantic cries. If she was lucky, Michael would return from town soon. She would actually be glad to see him.
Of course, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be able to hear her. The garage was set too far from the house for her peace of mind.
Rubbing her upper arms in an attempt to warm herself, she closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

FOR A SMALL TOWN, Tinkerton had more than its share of bars. Michael straddled a stool in one of them and ordered a cold beer. John “Paddy” Paddington was tardy. It was late afternoon and patrons were just beginning to fill the dimly lit room. Michael scanned the faces. He was relieved when he didn’t recognize any of them. Mostly men, they appeared more interested in their alcoholic beverages than in him.
Michael was about to give up on his old friend when Paddy appeared in the doorway. Michael waved him over, ordering two more beers.
Paddy sat down with a tired grunt. He rubbed his back at the base of the spine and nodded at Michael without saying a word. The Irishman swallowed half his beer in quick chugs.
Michael waited, feeling impatient.
“Aw,” Paddy said with delight, settling back. “That hit the spot. I did everything you asked of me. It all went as planned.”
“Good.” Michael asked, “Is there anything you need to tell me? I don’t want to stay away from the house for too long.”
“I spoke to our mutual friend. Zu Landis hasn’t been found yet. Sneaky devil. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he was behind all of this.”
Michael blinked slowly, keeping his expression neutral. “Anything else?” He popped a pretzel into his mouth. Paddy was a good friend, but Michael trusted very few people these days.
“Yes.” The Irishman grabbed a handful of pretzels himself. “You are to do anything you deem necessary. You have carte blanche. But our friend wants you to know that if you screw up, he’s never heard of you.”
Michael nodded with a grim smile.
Paddy continued, “I’ll keep an eye on the house from my vantage point down the road. If you need anything, just holler.” He groaned, “I hope this doesn’t take long. I’m not sure my back is going to hold up. Sleeping in a car will cripple you faster than anything.”
“I’ve told you for years, you need to hire a partner. That way, you could switch off with him.”
“I don’t want a partner. I’m hoping to retire soon.”
“Aren’t we all?” Sarcasm dripped from Michael’s tongue.
“What about the girl?” Paddy asked. “Is she giving you any trouble? She looked like a little ball of fire to me. Am I right?”
“Kelly Hall,” Michael stated. “That’s her name.”
“Whatever.” The man’s ample middle shook like a bowl of jelly when he laughed, reminding Michael of a demented Santa Claus without the suit. “You always had a way with the ladies.”
“This one is different. I can’t figure her out.”
“How so?”
“She seems so sweet,” Michael said. “But I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her.”
“Good man. Never trust a pretty face.” Paddy shoved a pretzel into his mouth. He stopped crunching long enough to ask, “Are you living in her house now?”
“Of course. I’m her doting fiancé.” He waved a hand at Paddy as if to negate his dirty thoughts. “We don’t share a bed, though. I have a room at the end of an entirely different hallway. I could probably shout my head off and she wouldn’t hear me.”
“That’s convenient. Well, what about this Kelly Hall?” Paddy asked. “Do you think she had something to do with our current situation?”
“My gut tells me no, but I’ll keep my eye on her. As far as I’m concerned, everyone is suspect.” Michael drank half his beer in a few thirsty gulps. It felt good to relax and be himself. “I almost blew it today. I need to watch what I say. That lady is one sharp tack.”
“You can do it,” Paddy said. “I have faith in you. You can manage a cute little blonde with your hands tied behind your back.”
That didn’t sound like too bad of an idea. If he kept his hands tied behind his back, he wouldn’t be able to touch her. Touching her would lead to more trouble than he could handle.
“That woman looks at me and throws me off balance,” Michael admitted. “She’s an enigma. According to the reports you compiled for me, her only friends are an old lady living in the guest house and a mentally retarded man who does handyman work around her place.”
“Speaking of Margo Lane, have you met her yet?” Paddy winked. “She’s a fine looking lady. Not that I’ve been looking. I’m happily married.”
“Of course, you are.” Michael sighed, focusing on the question. “No, I haven’t met the neighbor yet. I saw the handyman. What was his name again? Wade something?”
“Carpenter.” Paddy laughed and slapped the bar. “Carpenter. That’s funny. Like a gardener named Plant or a baker named Baker. Funny, huh?”
Michael’s jaw tightened. He rarely found life amusing. He didn’t have time to ponder puns or think of jokes.
“Any news on where our buddy Landis could be holing up?” Michael asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Oh yeah.” Paddy smiled. “I was just about to get to that. Landis was spotted near Tulsa, Oklahoma. Keep your guard up. He’s too close for comfort.”
“I’d better go.” Michael glanced at his watch. “I have to get some supplies before returning to the house. Did you hear the weather? We may get snowed in.”
He finished his beer and stood up, searching the pockets of his jeans for money to pay for the drinks. His fingers came across a small circular object. He withdrew Kelly’s wedding ring and stared down at it as if it were a snake. The last thing he needed was for her to stumble across a piece of evidence like that. He slapped the ring down on the bar in front of Paddy.
“Do me a favor. Take this thing and get rid of it for me.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“I don’t care.” Michael shrugged. “Toss it in the garbage. Pawn it. Whatever.”
The bartender approached with another cold beer. He set it in front of Michael along with a folded piece of paper.
“I didn’t order this,” Michael said.
“It was paid for,” claimed the bartender. “A guy gave me a twenty to deliver the beer and the note.”
“Is that so?” Paddy asked. “What man?”
The bartender briefly scanned the bar. “I think he left right after he paid me. Enjoy the beer.”
Michael unfolded the note and read it. It was simple and to the point, stirring fear deep in the pit of his stomach. “First the girl. Then you.”
“What is it?” Paddy grabbed the note, reading it for himself. He swore beneath his beer-laden breath.
“Kelly,” Michael said, “I have to hurry. She could be in danger.”
“Do you need me?”
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “Stick to the plan. I’ll call you.”
Michael raced out the door, note in hand. He climbed into the Mustang and gunned the engine, determined to save Kelly. He told himself it was part of his job. He saved lives when possible. No one under his care died without a hard fight from him. He would die for the people he protected. He assured himself that Kelly was no more important than any of the others he’d guarded. It was nothing personal.
So why were his hands shaking like a tree in a hurricane?

THE GARAGE FLOOR was solid concrete. Smudges of dirt and oil stained the gray surface like an abstract painting. There were several holes in the ceiling, which was propped up on weathered wooden beams. Kelly rattled the door handles, but they wouldn’t budge. Taking a deep breath, she ran at one door and delivered a karate kick.
A horrible sound that made Kelly think of a dinosaur screaming in rage forced her eyes heavenward. She watched helplessly as a large beam sagged, the metal sheeting groaning in protest.
She backed away slowly.
Wrapping her arms around her body to ward off the chill, she straightened her spine. Her teeth were starting to chatter. Hypothermia was the biggest worry on her list, next to being crushed to death by the collapsing garage.
Dying was a possibility she didn’t want to consider. Her mind turned to other matters. Concentrating on facts, she thought about who had done this—and why.
Maybe it was a practical joke. It could have been Wade playing a game with her. He would let her out soon. Or maybe local kids daring each other to get closer to Moore House. They might have locked her in the garage to keep her from reporting them as trespassers.
She couldn’t think of anyone who would actually want her dead.

MICHAEL RACED THROUGH the house, yelling for Kelly at the top of his lungs. He searched the mausoleumlike mansion room by room, a thousand horrible thoughts flitting through his head. Something terrible could have happened to her. He imagined the worst.
When he made it upstairs and started searching bedrooms, he spotted a dog when he glanced out one of the windows. It was running around the garage, barking as if there was a rabbit inside.
Michael wished he had his .38 at his side. He took the fastest route to the garage, running down the back stairs. Within seconds he was outside.
A metal chain hung from one of the garage doors. A rusty lock had fallen to the ground nearby. He yelled Kelly’s name, wondering where she could be. Was she inside?
“Michael?” Her quavering voice reached his ears. “Michael!”
Something was wrong.
Without hesitating he charged inside. Getting to Kelly, making sure she was safe, was the only thought in his head.
“No!” Kelly yelled a warning, but it was too late.
Above him, he heard the screech of metal giving way. He looked up. A heavy wooden beam fell, coming straight at him. There was no time to jump out of the way. No time to think.
No time for one last prayer.

Chapter Four
“Look out!”
Kelly shouted the warning as Michael blundered into the garage, loosening the wooden beam as he entered. She watched in horror as it fell. Time slowed and a surreal quality clouded her vision. The large beam would crush him.
She rushed forward, reaching out with her hands. There wasn’t time to think about the consequences of her actions. She didn’t consider the possibility that they might both die.
Before she could reach him, Michael flew toward her.
He tackled her, knocking her backward. His arms went around her as he tried to cushion their landing. One of his hands held the back of her head, saving her from an inevitable concussion.
They hit the concrete hard. Whether by accident or design, Michael landed beside her instead of on her. She felt her spine rattle as if every bone was shattering. Pain shot through her limbs. The impact shook her beyond belief.
Explosive noise deafened her. For a moment she feared the entire garage was going to collapse on top of them. Michael covered her body with his own, shielding her from the debris.
When her ability to hear returned, the first sound her ears picked up was Michael’s harsh breathing. He turned his head slightly and his warm lips brushed her earlobe. The brief touch was comforting.
His entire body was warm, half covering hers, pressing her firmly against the cement floor. He lifted his head, and their eyes met. They were so different, polar opposites, but their bodies fit together like they’d been made to complement one another. Rough and smooth. Hard and soft.
A soft smile curved his mouth. Michael moved in for a kiss, and she closed her eyes in anticipation.
It wouldn’t be the first kiss they’d shared. He had kissed her several times after taking her to dinner in dimly lit restaurants. Those had been chaste kisses, a brief touch and then it was over. Michael was a gentleman, and she’d appreciated his restraint. But she longed now to kiss him passionately, desperately wanted to take his breath away.
Something had changed inside of him recently. She didn’t understand it, but she sensed it instantly. A mere look from Michael’s smoky eyes burned her to a crisp. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted it more than she could remember wanting anything in her entire lifetime.
The sound of barking cut through their intimacy like a sharp knife. Boomer came bounding toward them, greeting them with loud yelps. He wagged his tail, as if happy to see them still alive.
Kelly laughed at Michael’s wry expression as he rolled to one side.
“Boomer was alone in Margo’s house and there’s no sign of her. I’m worried.”
“Why?”
“You know it isn’t like her to leave without a word, much less to leave Boomer to fend for himself. She doesn’t have a car. Where could she have gone?” Kelly shook her head, unable to understand why Michael wasn’t concerned, too. “Her house was a mess, like it’d been ransacked. I guess she could have had family over and maybe they took off suddenly.”
“Or maybe they went to town for supplies and they’ll be back soon,” he said. “Perhaps they’d already heard about the snow. That’s always possible.”
“Yes.” She smiled in relief. “You’re right. I’ll call her later, if the phone starts working again.”
“What’s wrong with the phone?”
“It’s dead.” She shrugged. “If I can’t get her on the phone, I’ll have to walk over there again later. I want to make sure she knows we have Boomer. I know I won’t stop worrying about her until we find out what happened to her.”
“Understood.” Michael didn’t try to talk her out of her concern for the elderly woman as he stood and pulled Kelly to her feet. She wobbled slightly, trying to find her balance. His arm went around her waist to steady her, but she gently pushed him away. She didn’t need to lean on him. She was a survivor. Molten steel hardened in her spine. She straightened, standing taller, chin held high.
They surveyed the damage together. The beam had fallen to the cement floor at an angle along with small pieces of debris, but the roof seemed to be holding strong.
“We should get out of here, just in case,” Michael said. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She forced a smile. “Thanks to you.”
“No.” He jerked his head at the dog now sitting beside his feet. “Thanks to Boomer. He pushed me from behind. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be a pancake.”
Kelly gazed up at him, not trusting her voice.
“How did you lock yourself in here, angel?”
His question floated through her mind. Angel. How could one solitary word pack such a punch? It seemed to hit her in the gut, knocking the air from her lungs. A memory connected with the word teased the back of her mind. She almost grasped it, but at the last second it faded into nothingness.
“Hey!” Michael broke through her trance. “What’s wrong? Can you hear me?”
Kelly’s eyes snapped up to meet his. He was staring at her, his expression filled with concern again. He probably thought she was losing her mind. He’d asked her a simple question and she had zoned out on him.
“I’m fine, really. I was just thinking.” She pointed at the doors. “Someone locked me in. I stepped inside the garage and the doors swung shut. I heard the chain being linked together.” She looked directly at him. “How did you get past the lock?”
“The doors weren’t locked.” He raked a hand through his dark hair, gazing around at the mess.
“They were locked,” she insisted. “I tried them. I even kicked at them. They wouldn’t budge.”
“Well, they weren’t locked when I arrived. I only came tearing in here like an idiot because you screamed my name and I thought you might be hurt.”
Kelly took a deep breath, then shivered. “I’m cold,” she said. “Let’s go back to the house.”
Michael helped her over the fallen beam and out the door. As she started toward the house, Boomer fell into step beside her, with Michael tailing them. Kelly didn’t dare look back, feeling his perceptive gaze burning holes in her. He had almost died trying to rescue her. She should be grateful. She should be glad to have him around.
But her resentment grew.
He was lying to her, holding secrets in those dark eyes. She saw it in his every glance. She had the horrible feeling he knew exactly who had locked her in the garage, and he wasn’t going to tell her. He knew she wasn’t crazy.
She wasn’t losing her mind.
Or was she?

MICHAEL WALKED BEHIND Kelly as they followed the path to Moore House, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Neither of them spoke. There was a certain comfort to be found in silence. At least there was for Michael. It gave him opportunity to think.
At the house, he opened the front door and took a step back, allowing Kelly to enter first. He watched her limp up the steps, and realized she must have hurt her leg earlier. His hands itched to help her. Guilt flowed through his veins. She could have been killed. He should have been with her, but he’d gone to town to talk to Paddy. Following his agenda was important, but he wouldn’t risk Kelly’s life for it. Leaving her on her own was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.
He followed her to the parlor. His concern for her escalated when she sank into the covered sofa and buried her face in her hands. He could tell by the way her shoulders shook that she was fighting tears.
Michael didn’t know what to do for her. Comforting traumatized women was not one of his specialties. He felt helpless, and he didn’t like it. Taking a seat next to her, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. He hoped it would be enough. He wanted her to feel safe.
A soft sigh was her only response.
Michael looked around the room. The parlor was definitely not one of his favorite spaces in Moore House. It was bleak. A spider would have second thoughts about living in such a room. The sheet-draped furniture loomed around them like ghosts from the past. Michael wouldn’t have been surprised to see them move.
He wanted to ask Kelly about the burns on her arms. He wanted to know who had hurt her.
She straightened her back and said, “I thought I was going to die. I know you don’t believe me, but those doors were locked.”
“It’s possible… Maybe someone locked you in as a joke,” he suggested. “Then they got scared and unlocked the doors without letting you in on their prank.”
“Yeah. Maybe. Some joke. It was freezing in there and the stupid garage was falling apart.” She took a deep, cleansing breath and regained her composure. “You saved my life.”
“You would have been fine. Eventually you would have tried the doors again and found them open.”
“How did you know to look in there for me?” she asked.
“Boomer was circling the garage when I got back from town. That’s how I found you. You never mentioned what you were doing in the garage in the first place,” he added.
“I thought I saw someone duck inside there. I went to check it out. I don’t understand it,” she said. “I was so sure I saw someone, but the garage was empty. I don’t know how they got out without me seeing them.”
“Maybe they walked around the corner of the building, and you just thought you saw them go inside,” Michael stated.
“Yes. I guess that’s possible,” she said. “I heard the lock click shut soon after. I knew I was trapped before I tried the door. It was the worst feeling in the world.” She turned to him, staring deep into his eyes as if searching for truth. “Who would do something like that? And why?”
He shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to spill his guts, confess the real reason he was at Moore House, but he couldn’t as he had to put this woman’s well-being before anything else. He felt responsible for her. He had an overwhelming urge to protect her at all costs. The problem was he wasn’t absolutely sure he knew who was behind all the trouble.
She shivered and he pulled her closer, trying to warm her with his body heat. His hand stroked her arm, heating her flesh with friction. She was chilled to the bone. If he hadn’t found her so quickly, it was possible she could have died from hypothermia.
“Would you mind starting a fire?” she asked.
He looked at the fireplace with concern. Not long ago a friend of his had tried to light a fire in his hearth only to discover it had been booby trapped. Fortunately his friend had survived with only minor burns. Michael assured himself he wasn’t that careless. He would be able to spot the wire before he triggered it.
Kelly’s eyes burned holes in his back as he crossed the room to the fireplace. He quickly scanned the mantel for matches and found none. Bending his knees, he hunched down, checking the logs for a trap. Copper fireplace tools were on his right and there was a basket filled with logs to the left. Nothing looked tampered with. There were no matches here, either. What if they were in another room such as the kitchen? Did Kelly expect him to know where they were kept?
Was this a trick to slip him up? Did she suspect?
She rose slowly to her feet. He saw her approach from the corner of his eye.
Kelly pulled a box of matches from an opening at the side of the fireplace. She handed them to him without a word. She didn’t need to say anything. Her suspicious expression spoke volumes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Here I am taking my time and you’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
“Would you like me to warm you?” He winked at her, causing her to blush.
“Not right now. Thank you.”
“Okay. If you say so.” He grinned up at her, playing his part to the hilt. “But you can have a rain check, redeemable any time you want.”
Several long moments later the fire blazed to life. Michael could feel rather than see Kelly hovering over him. Once he succeeded in his task he had no choice but to look at her. He stood, turning to face her. She wasn’t looking at him.
Her blue gaze was focused on the fire. The light danced in her eyes, giving her the appearance of an angel in a trance. She was more than beautiful, he reluctantly admitted to himself. During his thirty-three years he had known his fair share of women, some of them beauties in their own right, but none could have held a candle to this lady.
Her eyes were bluer than the Montana sky. Her hair, the color of twenty-four carat gold, spilled over her slender shoulders in luxuriant waves. His hands itched to touch the silky strands. Her heart-shaped face and delicate features were a sculptor’s dream. Her lips were sensuous and pink. Michael had a hard time keeping his gaze from dropping to that lovely mouth when standing face-to-face with her.
She hugged herself and stepped closer to the fire, then slowly turned to him as if feeling his eyes on her.
“You know something?” she said. “At first when the door locked I thought maybe I was hallucinating. Then I realized I really was locked inside. I don’t know which is worse—thinking I’m crazy or knowing someone is trying to hurt me.”
“Why would you think you were crazy?” His eyes narrowed on her face, he tried hard to understand what she was saying. “Because of the dreams you had the other night? That was the medication. I thought we already went over that.”
“The dreams have nothing to do with it. It’s my mother. I’ve always been afraid I’d wind up like her.”
Michael froze, hearing the pain in her voice.
“You didn’t press me to tell you about my mother before and I appreciate it, but I think you need to know.” She continued. “I think I was six or seven the first time my mother went to the hospital. I barely remember it. Apparently she’d tried to kill herself—I’m not sure how. I think it was probably an overdose. I remember her medicine cabinet being filled to the point of overflowing with pills. My father called an ambulance, and the police came. She was gone for a week or so. When she came back, she was different.”
Kelly fell silent.
Michael chose his words carefully, afraid he might push her too hard. She could totally withdraw or freak out on him.
“How was she different?”
“She was a walking zombie.” Kelly’s fair eyebrows furrowed together with the memory. She stared into the distance. “I don’t think she even recognized me. She lived in a fog. No emotion whatsoever. I thought I’d done something wrong.”
“Didn’t your father explain things to you?”
“I was a child,” she reminded him. Her gaze swung to Michael. “I couldn’t possibly understand what was happening to her. When I was old enough, my father filled me in and I wished he hadn’t. It turned my life upside down. I was so afraid of becoming like my mother.”
Was it possible to pass insanity from mother to daughter? For Kelly’s sake, he hoped not. She’d had a rough life by the sound of it. She deserved better.
“My mother woke one morning and decided she wasn’t sick anymore. She stopped taking her medication without telling anyone.” Kelly’s eyes fixed on his chest, but he knew she wasn’t seeing him. “We had no idea there was a problem until Mom decided I was out to get her.” She swallowed hard. Michael watched with admiration as she pushed her pain down and went on. “She was boiling water for something. Macaroni and cheese, I think. Without a word she grabbed the pot and threw the scalding water at me.”
Michael’s sharp intake of breath went unnoticed. Kelly continued talking, and he regained his composure. The last thing she needed was him railing at the world as if he had the right. She was the one who’d been burned. She was the one in pain.
“Luckily, I saw it coming.” She forced a smile. “My mother was aiming for my face. I turned my head and put my arms up in an attempt to protect myself.”
Kelly demonstrated, lifting her arms as she told the story. He stared at her burns now, seeing them in a whole new light. How could anyone do that to her own child?
Michael kept his feelings deep inside. What had happened to Kelly was in the past. He couldn’t do anything about it. Getting upset, showing how angry he was that someone had hurt her, wouldn’t help.
He wasn’t psychic, but he knew what she was about to say. Her mother hadn’t come home again. Good. He hoped the crazy woman would stay locked away forever. If he had any say in the matter she wouldn’t get another chance to hurt Kelly. No one would.
“My mom is in the hospital and probably always will be. She was found insane by the court-appointed doctor. She has schizophrenia. A lot of people suffer from it but aren’t locked up. They said my mom was different. She was dangerous. Lucky her.”
Michael touched Kelly’s chin, tilting it until her eyes met his and lost that blank stare. “There isn’t anything wrong with you.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Thank you, Dr. Taggert.”
“I may not be a psychiatrist, but I’m a good judge of character. You aren’t insane.”
“Not yet.”
“Not ever.” He released her chin, but his gaze held hers as a friendly hostage. “You are a strong, capable woman. Don’t let a few bad dreams brought on by bad medication throw you. You aren’t losing it.”
“Well,” she said, “today certainly wasn’t a part of my imagination. Someone locked me inside the garage. I know it.” She frowned. “Where are the supplies you went into town for? Are they in your car?”
Blast! The supplies. He’d forgotten his invented reason for going to town. Every time he thought he had Kelly a safe distance from the truth, she cornered him.
“I came back before getting the supplies.” He smiled easily at her, another lie sliding off his tongue. “I forgot my wallet. Can’t buy anything without money these days.”
He was in the clear now.
Her eyes sharpened on him. “You usually charge it to my account.”
Of course he did.
“Shopping was my idea.” He shrugged. “There were some personal things I wanted to get, so I was planning on paying for them myself. I would go back for the supplies now, but in light of what happened I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I don’t need a keeper.” She shrugged. “I can ask a friend to deliver whatever we need. You can make a list and pay him when he gets here.”
Michael nodded. Now he was going to have to invent a list of personal items he just couldn’t live without. He needed to keep on his toes around Kelly Hall. Her mind was a steel trap. One wrong move on his part and she would be all over him like a pit bull.
“I’ll make a list later,” he said. “I want to walk the grounds, make certain the intruder is gone.”
“I can come with you if you want.”
“I think I can handle it alone.”
Michael left Kelly sitting in the parlor. He wished he could retrieve his gun but couldn’t take the chance that Kelly might see it. Being naked couldn’t have made him feel more vulnerable.
He stepped outside, with Boomer on his heels. Michael’s gaze automatically traveled down the long road to where Paddy would be parked. He gave a short wave in case his partner was watching through the binoculars, then headed around the house with quick strides, anxious to get back to Kelly. He believed her about the garage being locked, even though it hadn’t been when he got there. Michael hoped the intruder had vanished from their lives forever.
Unfortunately, his gut told him the opposite was true. The person who had locked Kelly in the garage was somewhere nearby, watching them. He could practically feel those evil eyes tracking his every move.
Boomer wagged his tail and stayed with Michael the whole time, not putting more than a few feet between them. He had found a new friend.

THE SOUND OF THE FRONT door closing gave Kelly permission to release the breath she’d been holding. The oxygen returned to the room in a dizzying rush. How did Michael’s presence cause the walls to close in on her? It had never felt this way between them before. Within twenty-four hours Michael had altered drastically. His voice was the same, but his choice of words had changed and his mannerisms were different. In fact, his entire aura was different.
Or was it her imagination?
An insistent knocking on the front door drew her attention. She hurried to answer it, wondering if Michael had forgotten his keys. But the door was unlocked so it couldn’t be him. Kelly pasted on a smile, thinking it was probably Margo coming for her dog.
Her smile froze.
It was a stranger—a tall, gangly man with a pointy nose and jutting chin. He wore a dark suit that must have been two sizes too small for him and held a briefcase close to his chest.
“Yes,” she murmured, “may I help you?”
“I called a few weeks ago,” he stated abruptly. “My boss wants to buy your house.”
“I told you already, I’m not interested in selling. This house has been in my family for more than fifty years.”
“My boss is willing to pay twice what the house is worth.”
Her eyes widened. Why would anyone want to pay double?
“Who is your boss?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” He patted his briefcase. “I have all the papers in here. Say the word and we can sign them.” He pulled a slip of paper from his vest pocket. “I also have a hefty check.”
When he handed it to her she glanced down at the signature. It was signed “Natalie Gross.” Kelly pushed it back at him.
“Okay,” she said, attempting to remain calm, “I’m only going to say this once more. I am not selling Moore House. Not for twice the amount. Not for ten times the amount. Please leave.”
She tried to close the door, but the man’s hand slammed against it. There was a dark glint in his eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses he wore. She sensed that this man was not only quite capable of hurting her, he would enjoy it.
Cold fear chilled her nerve endings. If he attacked her, would she be able to fight him off? If she screamed, would Michael hear her?
“My boss has her heart set on buying this house. I think you should consider her offer.” He smiled calculatingly. “She will get the place one way or another.”
“Is that a threat?” Kelly lifted her chin high, gritting her teeth to keep her jaw from trembling. “I want you off my land.”
“You aren’t listening.” The stranger’s voice rose.
“My fiancé is going to be back any second. He’ll kick your butt all the way to the state line.”
“I met your fiancé in town a few weeks ago. I don’t think he’ll give me any trouble.”
“Think again, pal,” Michael said. And immediately afterward, Boomer growled.
Kelly spotted Michael over the other man’s shoulder and relief spread through her body, warming her. She hated the thought of being vulnerable and didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt, but there was a tiny guilty pleasure that came with being rescued. Michael was her very own hero, strong and courageous. He could handle the skinny man with one hand tied behind his back.
“You should stay out of this,” the stranger said.
Michael stepped closer and the man’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. He claimed to have seen Michael in town, but he looked like he’d just come across an unfamiliar and dangerous creature. He moved to the side, putting distance between them.
Michael held out his hand. “Show me your identification.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.” Michael snapped his fingers. “A driver’s license. State identification card. Anything with a name and picture on it will do.” His dark eyebrows rose. “Do you need help finding your wallet? I don’t mind getting it myself.” He moved nearer, closing in on him.
The stranger relinquished his wallet without another protest.
Michael flipped it open and read the name aloud.
“Elvin Grant.” Michael handed the wallet back. “Okay, Elvin Grant, if I see you around here again I’ll have the local authorities run your name through their computers. A man like you must have an interesting past.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“No,” Michael said with confidence. “You’ll regret it if you harass the lady again.”
The stranger scurried off, leaving Kelly and Michael standing on the porch in an uncomfortable silence. Kelly didn’t know what to say. A quiet thank-you didn’t seem enough. She was certain Michael had saved her from harm.
Boomer barked happily and wagged his tail.
“Has that guy hassled you before?” Michael asked.
“Over the phone,” she admitted.

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